I Feel Everything
by Blondie47
Summary: Constance Hardbroom always thought that suppressing her emotion would help her to do her job better. She never realized the terrible consequences it could have. Drill/Hardbroom FEMSLASH. NEW CHAPTER IS UP.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I started writing this story to be a Imogen/Constance oneshot. However, after writing the first three sentences Constance Hardbroom decided that she wants to do things her way! Such a stubborn traditionalist she is! From that point on, the characters were doing what they wanted with me being the mere instrument to deliver their story. So here it is, with the premise of Drill/HB love ahead - that is once Constance finally sees how much she's attracted to the PE teacher. Tsk.

Enjoy the story and review to share the Hardbroom love! 3

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**Chapter One**: **For The Well Being Of The Girls**

That day didn't start out good for Constance Hardbroom. 

It wasn't that is was Monday – even though she did not particularly like them for reasons of having a morning potion class with Mildred Hubble which usually meant something would break, spill and surely go wrong with the student's potion. The girl was a walking disaster with no talent for potions at all. A morning class with a half-asleep student who couldn't tell a difference between Cumin Seeds and Damian even when she was wide awake always meant an unpleasant morning.

It wasn't even the fact that Constance woke up twenty minutes later than usual. She blamed Mildred Hubble for this as well– she always had to sleep with one eye open, in case the girl was up to no good again. Constance knew there was one more thought that kept her awake but she locked it out of her mind as she often did with what she considered to be useless thoughts. It was as if everything wanted to annoy her from the very moment she opened her eyes. 

No, that was not the main reason why she felt that this day would be a nuisance, even though it had given her subtle hints. It was what happened later in the staff room.

Before meeting the other teachers for morning notices, Constance had made sure everything was in order. Her bed had been made up, she'd opened the window for morning air and she'd got dressed in her usual black gown. She'd straightened out her black skirt one last time and had checked her tight bun to make sure not a hair was out of place. There was a single annoying hair sticking out which she couldn't tie to her bun no matter how many times she'd tried. She even briefly considered cutting it off. It'd seemed that her hair decided to hate her that day as well, as if it had wanted to add to the annoyance of the day and make Constance moody even before she had walked out of her room.

Or de-materialized, for that matter**.**

For the past fourteen years, the teacher had a habit of materializing to the morning notices for reasons long forgotten. Mostly it was because it highly annoyed Davina Bat, which was something Constance took great delight in. However this morning, not even that cheered her up.

"Very well, let the day begin." she said to herself and a few moments later she dematerialized to the staff room, leaving her bedroom empty.

* * *

When Constance appeared in the staff room, Miss Bat let out a high pinched cry, looking very startled. A few years ago, she used to lock herself up in the cupboard every time this happened but now she just held the cupboard handle. The potions teacher smiled a little, pretending not to take notice of her colleague, and looked directly at the headmistress, Amelia Cackle. She greeted her first because she was the highest authority in the room. It was a tradition, after all.

"Good morning, Constance." Amelia replied with a sweet smile. "We were just discussing the unfortunate events of yesterday's Chanting Class." she added.

"I don't see what is so unfortunate about a small burn on Ethel's hand that it needs to be further discussed. Burns like that occur every day in my potion classes, Miss Cackle." Constance said while pouring herself a cup of her morning tea and greeting Miss Bat with a polite 'good morning'.

"Oh, but it was so dramatic!"

Miss Bat exclaimed, thrusting her hands in the air and then putting them together close to her heart to ensure a dramatic effect. "Ethel cried and screamed and the girls were shouting my name and wanted me to…" The gesture surprised Constance, who spilt her tea a little on her sleeve and the table. She let out a dangerous groan and gave the eccentric chanting teacher a glare only she could master. Davina stopped mid-sentence and bit her lower lip. Then she apologized, taking two steps back towards the cupboard.

"Yes, dear. We believe it must have been truly terrible for you, indeed," the headmistress agreed, encouraging the chanting teacher to stay out of the wooden cupboard.

"But the reason we are talking about the accident is not because of _what_ happened, but _how_. Miss Ethel explained that she had found a lighter on the train here. It was a non-witch device and poor Ethel didn't know how to use it. And while she was figuring out what exactly it does, she accidentally burnt herself."

Constance suppressed the urge to roll her eyes on the curios spirit of young girls and instead fixed her gaze on the fireplace, thinking about whether Ethel deserved a detention for her ignorance. Then she decided against it – after all, those non-witch devices were tricky and even she didn't know how to use many of them.

"This was our warning, ladies." Amelia said in a very serious tone, looking at them over her glasses. All the teachers (including Miss Drill who Constance decided to fully ignore) were listening carefully.

"As Miss Drill noted, the girls know nothing about the non-witch world," the headmistress continued. "A few of them come from a non-magical family but most of the girls - such as Ethel - are not so lucky."

"Lucky!" Constance exclaimed, raising her eyebrows. "I would hardly consider being a non-witch 'lucky'!"

At this point, Miss Drill shot her an angry look, deciding to protect her status' name. It was one thing to have subtle (well, nothing was truly subtle when it came to Miss Hardbroom) comments about her own non-witch status but she wouldn't have the witch insulting everyone who was not a witch like them!

"Not all of us are born with spells and magic books, Miss Hardbroom, we actually have to _think_ to invent devices to help us and we learn to operate them!" Miss Drill said in a loud voice.

This took Miss Hardbroom aback. She was used to arguing with Miss Drill about their teaching methods, however this was personal now. The tone of voice her colleague used surprised her, for not many people dared to talk to her like that.

"You have to learn because there is not a bit a magic in you! I don't see why our girls should be considered lucky to be exposed to such useless devices and filling their heads with non-witch technologies instead of spells and potions." she responded, putting her tea cup on the table and crossing her arms.

"Obviously, Ethel's case proves you wrong! Had she known what a lighter was, she would not have burnt herself. The girls cannot rely on magic all the time - that alone will not get them through their lives. They need to know more about the world around them, the non-witch world, especially since many of them are isolated here for years. It was a lighter this time but it might be a gun the next time!"

Miss Drill stood up while speaking, as she often did when she was arguing with a sitting Miss Hardbroom. That was the only situation where she could look down at the woman. It made her feel less terrified of the witch – of course, everybody in their right mind had to be terrified of Miss Hardbroom and she was no exception. Her fear, however, did not get in the way of expressing her opinions to the stubborn traditionalist.

The disapproval of every word the PE teacher uttered was very visible on Constance's face.

"I have never had to learn what the non-witch devices were used for and I am getting though my life just fine, thank you very much, Miss Drill." The cold tone of her voice made Miss Bat look at Miss Cackle with anxiety and then back-and-forth at the arguing teachers.

"Oh, you can hardly use yourself as an example – you've never even left the walls of this castle and probably never will, considering how you are unable to build any relationships with people! You might not need the skills to survive in a normal world but our girls do!" shouted Miss Drill, putting her hands on her hips and leaning to a close proximity of Miss Hardbroom's face.

Right after she stopped speaking, she realized that she had never been so close to the deputy Headmistress before. Feeling strangely intimidated by it, she straightened up and took two steps back, watching Miss Hardbroom's reaction. To her surprise, the witch was quiet for a moment and Miss Drill dared to think that she saw sadness reflect in her collage's unreadable expression. Then Miss Hardbroom stood up to her full height and with her arms crossed, looked down at the other women. Her brown eyes met Miss Drill's green eyes, the intensity of their looks making them both feel a strange connection. Perhaps it was pure hatred. Perhaps, Imogen thought, something else.

"Our girls need to learn discipline and magic, not fool around with devices that are useless to every capable witch. This is an academy for _witches_, not your usual college, Miss Drill!"

At that point, right when Miss Drill opened her mouth to reply, the headmistress intervened.

"That is enough, ladies. You are both professionals and I suggest you act like it. Now, sit down – both of you."

The truth was Miss Cackle rarely settled arguments using her authority. Usually she preferred to appeal to people's emotions and common sense – however in case of her deputy headmistress and the argumentative PE teacher, she didn't have any other choice. She had never seen two people with such an opposing point of views, each passionate to defend her opinion.

"Very well," Miss Cackle began when her employees sat down, clearly biting their tongues not to say anything.

"I believe we were not meant to discuss the usefulness of non-witch devices to witches this morning. I mentioned the topic because of what had happened yesterday in Miss Bat's class and because I believe we have to make sure nothing even remotely similar happens in this Academy ever again."

Miss Bat nodded. She didn't want to see any more burnt hands in her class that was for sure.

"I agree with you, Constance, that the main priority of this school is and always will be magic. However, Imogen is right when she says that it will be in our girl's best interest to know more about the commonly used devices in the non-witch world. After all, they might eventually have to learn to live in one. Of course, that doesn't apply to all the pupils – I suppose most of them will marry into a magical family and live in one of the many magic cities. But I firmly believe that the quality of any academy is measured by the knowledge of their weakest student and I shall make sure every girl such as Ethel knows how to safely operate a non-witch device. I hope you agree, Constance, that it is our duty to make sure our girls are safe at all times."

Even though Miss Hardbroom didn't fully agree with anything the headmistress said, she had to agree with the last sentence. She suspected Miss Cackle formed her speech like that on purpose. Manipulation was a delicate skill but Miss Cackle knew how to use it.

"Naturally, the safety of the girls is our priority." Miss Harbroom agreed.

"Then we all agree that something must be done to prevent any more accidents." Miss Cackle looked around the staff room. "Any suggestions?"

Miss Bat raised her hand as if she was scared to talk without permission. Miss Hardbroom rolled her eyes at that gesture, Miss Drill quietly sighed and Miss Cackle smiled at her sweetly: "Go ahead, Davina. We're listening."

"I think we should educate the girls about the devices by bringing them here and showing them. I guess Imogen could tell us what the things do and how to safely operate them, right Imogen? And then the girls could try it out themselves – that would be so much fun! We could have helium balloons, too, and electric lights and those blowing things that help you dry your hair and we could decorate the hall and maybe compose a song about it…! Oh, that would be splendid, wouldn't it?"

As always, Miss Bat got carried away with her ideas, already planning who will sing what. Oh, how that annoyed Miss Hardbroom! The never ending blabbing!

"Splendid indeed," she remarked with an obvious annoyance in her voice.

"I agree with Davina - that way the girls would be interested in actually learning to work with the devices and we would have to only spend one afternoon doing it," Miss Drill stated.

Miss Hardbroom didn't protest this time. She could cope with one afternoon - for the well being of the girls. The headmistress thought about it for a few moments and then her face lit up. She got an idea.

"I don't think the girls would be eager to learn anything if we made them dedicate their free afternoon time to it, would they? I suggest we do it during classes, as soon as possible. Actually, we could even do it today!"

"Today?" the deputy headmistress raised her eyebrows. She had a potions class to teach and with the end of semester in four weeks…poor students such as Mildred Hubble needed every single potion class to pass the exams.

"Works for me," Miss Drill said in a delighted voice. Miss Bat just nodded with excitement and turned around two times, humming her favorite song.

"I certainly don't ag---," Miss Hardbroom started but the headmistress cut her off.

"I am happy to see we came to an agreement then! We will start in the Great Hall in twenty minutes, please make sure all the students are present."

Before Constance had the chance to protest again, Miss Bat run out of the staff room to tell her students to gather in the Great Hall and Miss Drill went to her room to find something she could show to the girls.

The headmistress and her deputy stayed alone in the staff room. Miss Hardbroom glared at her boss. She didn't approve of any of this, yet it was not her place to protest. Miss Cackle wanted to say something but Miss Hardbroom de-materialized before she had the chance to speak.

Constance Hardbroom would take a day of potion classes with the clumsy Mildred Hubble any time over this. That Monday certainly hadn't started out good and it seemed it would not improve any time soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Keeping Up Standards**

"Mondays! I hate Mondays!" Mildred exclaimed when she sat down at her wooden table, slamming her books against it.

"I can't imagine what can be worse than seeing HB this early in the morning every week." Maud sighed, sitting next to Mildred.

"And she always gives us so much homework for the weekend – it always ruins my Sundays!" Ruby added and then curiously looked at Maud.

"Speaking of which, did you finish page four hundred twenty-six, the matching of the pictures with the right root names? I couldn't get it right! All the roots look the same to me…"

At that point Mildred gasped and buried her face in her hands. All her friends knew what that meant.

"Mildred, don't tell me you forgot we had homework again! You know HB always gives us homework!"

Mildred nodded desperately at her friend's words. " I know, I just…I was so busy writing my 500 lines on _'I will not go around the castle at an ungodly hour just to fetch myself a glass of water without a permission from a superior teacher'_ that I completely forgot to do anything else."

Maud gave her a hug while Ruby copied her friend's answers to her own book. Nobody wanted to turn up in Miss Hardbroom's class with their homework unfinished.

Just as Ruby closed her book, the fearsome potion teacher walked into the class. In that moment all the girls stopped speaking and those who were not sitting in their places quickly sat down.

"Good morning, Miss Hardbroom," they all said in union, one sounding less excited than the other.

The teacher looked around the class, slightly annoyed but not willing to show it. She had to set the example for the girls and being annoyed in her own class was hardly the right one. How could she expect the girls to be excited for the subject if she was annoyed?

"Good morning, girls. I assume you are all rested after the weekend and looking forward to your potion class, isn't that right Mildred?"

The girl in the second row looked at her teacher with pleading eyes and nervously nodded: "Yes, Miss Hardbroom."

"Oh how I wish something would happen and she wouldn't check the homework." she whispered to Maud.

"That would have to be powerful magic indeed!" Maud replied, succeeding in making Mildred smile.

"Quiet, over there!" the potion teacher shushed them.

"As much as I like to think that you will all be bitterly disappointed by what I am going to announce now, I am sure you will agree that it is for your own well-being and I don't want to hear anything else, is that understood?"

The girls exchanged confused looks and then all replied: "Yes, Miss Hardbroom."

"First of all, your potion class has been cancelled this morning," she said, ignoring the blissful expressions on most of the faces, if not all faces, in the class.

The deputy continued, telling them they would all go to the Great Hall and that all their classes had been cancelled due to a non-witch devices work-shop they will all take part it. While talking, she was walking back and forth. The girls never saw it as a gesture of annoyance but they always felt their teacher had a particular reason for walking like that. Maybe, Mildred dared to think, it was some emotion reflecting in her behavior without the woman herself realizing it.

"…and I expect you to behave your best as you would in any other official class. That applies to especially you, Mildred."

The girl beamed with happiness. "I come from a non-witch family so this will be easy for me! I will finally get something right!"

"And HB didn't even check the homework!" Ruby said but unfortunately Ethel overheard her. The high-born classmate raised her hand to ask a question.

"Yes, Ethel? I hope you are not going to complain about the workshop."

Miss Hardbroom, in fact, was hoping someone _would _complain about the workshop. Was she the only one who saw what a waste of time it was? She spoke to Ethel as she would speak to anyone else but secretly she though this all was the girl's fault. If only she'd been more careful about what she brings into the castle!

"No, Miss Hardbroom. I was just wondering if you are going to check our homework. I worked on it all weekend, Miss."

Mildred and her friends rolled their eyes. Everyone knew it was Drusilla doing all her homework. The worst witch sank deeper in her chair, knowing this would not end up good.

"Ah, yes. I believe I assigned you to do page four-hundred twenty six, matching the root names to the right pictures. All of you open your books and show me…"

At that moment, Miss Drill walked into the room and looked straight at her colleague. Mildred felt a glimpse of hope.

"Miss Hardbroom, all the classes are already in the Great Hall. We are only waiting for your potions class now."

The PE teacher refused to look in the witch's eyes, still remembering the intensity of her look from their quarrel in the staff room earlier.

"Very well, I shall check the homework the next class, then." the potions teacher said, not amused by Miss Drill practically ordering her to go with her that very moment.

Words couldn't express Mildred's happiness. It must have been her lucky day, if she ever had any. All the girls packed their bags and stood up to follow Miss Drill. Mildred stuck her tongue out at Ethel and giggled thinking this Monday morning, for a change, wouldn't be that bad.

"As for you, Mildred Hubble, I expect 300 lines:_ 'I will never forget to do my potions homework and I will not complain about Mondays ever again.' _from you on my table the first thing tomorrow morning." she heard Miss Hardbroom say, almost in a 'by the way' manner.

"And from you, Ruby Cherrytree, 300 lines:_ 'I will not copy my classmate's answers and rather tell the teacher I did not know how to tell a difference between the roots so she can help me learn to do it on my own.' _Now, move to the Great Hall, girls."

A smirk of victory appeared on Ethel's face as she passed her rivals with her nose up. Mildred and Ruby sighed and quickly moved out of Miss Hardbroom way before she could assign them million lines of _'I will not stand around after my teacher is finished talking to me_' or something longer.

"I knew this would not end up good," Miss Hardbroom heard Mildred say to her friend, "After all, I am Mildred Hubble!"

She waited till all the students were out of the class and closed the door behind them. She leaned against the wall and took out a small bottle from her purse, taking a small sip. Then she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the effects of the potion and put it back.

Suddenly it was much easier to think clearly.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks everyone for the nice comments! I will be adding a new chapter every day (more or less). :)

**Chapter 3 : I Wouldn't Go That Far**

When Constance entered the Great Hall she couldn't believe her eyes. It was full of items of various sizes, colors and materials, most of which she had never seen before. There was something she recognized though – she did not know the name but it was the same thing Ruby Cherrytree was listening to the very first day of school, two years ago. She remembered it produced sound – perhaps it was an instrument. She walked to the platform and stood next to Miss Cackle (and Miss Drill) as she always did. The girls were chatting and wondering what was going to happen next. Why did the girls had to talk all the time, Constance never understood. She clearly remembered she was not like that when she was their age. Memories of getting slapped every time she would talk when it wasn't required surfaced but the potion suppressed them immediately.

"Silence, girls!" she shouted and the hall fell quiet.

"Thank you, Miss Hardbroom," Amelia smiled and then addressed the girls.

As Amelia was explaining what was going on and why they decided to do the workshop, Constance concentrated at the mirror at the very end of the Great Hall. She saw Miss Drill's reflection in it and enjoyed the opportunity to study her without the PE teacher's consent. It was only because she believed it was good to know your enemy and observing was the best way how to collect valuable information.

First, she noticed that Imogen wore different clothes than earlier in the staff room. She had no longer her PE clothes: the awful blue leggings Constance found so inappropriate (they seemed like more thighs to her and who ever heard of wearing only thighs in public?) were replaced by what seemed like comfortable jeans and the white shirt was replaced by a red jumper. Only the characteristic white sneakers stayed the same. Oh, how Constance hated those sneakers. They made it hard for her to hear when Imogen was approaching and sometimes she caught her off-guard. She found heels much more appropriate for a grown up woman. She tried to imagine the woman in heels and almost smiled at that idea. Then there was Imogen's face. She was looking at the students, smiling when she caught someone's eye. In wasn't a beautiful face in that traditional sense, Constance though. There were no pouty red lips you would be dying to kiss (as they write in the books) nor did she possess a spotless complexion or a perfect small nose. But she had those green eyes that simply fascinated the witch. Smiling, as Imogen was now, they sparkled with love and understanding for the girls. Arguing and shouting as she was this morning, they showed passion and determination. It was a feature rarely found in anyone anymore.

Just as Constance started to think about other parts of Miss Drill's toned body, she heard someone say her name and snapped out of her thoughts.

"…Miss Hardbroom?"

It was Amelia, asking her something. Constance mentally cursed herself for not listening to the last three minutes of the headmistress speech but figured that she wanted her support on some matter.

"Yes, Miss Cackle. Absolutely." she nodded.

The girls looked at each other and the ones who couldn't hold it giggled. Miss Hardbroom shot a wicked glance the direction the giggles were coming from. Even Miss Cackle seemed surprised. She raised her eyebrows and her glasses slide down her nose a little. The potion teacher looked around, trying to figure out what exactly she supported and overheard Mildred talking.

"Why would she agree? Cackle was only joking, right? I can't possibly imagine HB untying her bun just for the demonstration. If she hadn't caught me during the nights wandering around the castle, I would think she sleeps with it, too!"

Untying her bun? Why would Amelia want her to that? And what demonstration was that girl talking about?

"Alright girls, calm down! Miss Drill and Miss Hardbroom will now demonstrate the use of a blow dryer. No 'siccus saeta' spell, no magic at all! Now I will let Miss Drill explain." Amelia said.

Constance refused to show any signs of confusion. If she agreed to such a thing, she would do it. Even if the agreement was caused by her own stupidity.

"Well, this is called a blow dryer as Miss Cackle has already said. How many of you have used this before?"

A few girls raised their hands, including proud Mildred Hubble.

"I see there not so many of you." She managed to explain what a blow dryer was used for and then plugged it in a little black box behind her.

"You see, all non-witch devices need electricity in order to function. Since we don't have electricity in the castle, Miss Cackle transported this power source from my home to Cackles for the demonstration."

The girls held their breath as Miss Drill turned the power source on and it started humming. Then she walked to Miss Hardbroom and stood behind her chair, indicating her to sit down.

"Can I?" she whispered into Constance's ear, asking for a permission to untie her hair once the witch sat down. She nodded and took a deep breath. This was the worst Monday ever.

She felt the woman touch her and then her long hair fell down her neck, shoulders and her back. Any other time she would feel relaxed but in that case she could feel her heart stop beating. Not showing confusion was easy. But to remain with a cold expression on her face as Imogen's hands dug through her hair (she was saying something about how Miss Hardbroom is a very good subject for the demonstration) and lightly touched the back of her neck proved to be much more difficult. She saw the girls look at her wide-eyed and felt the shame for being looked at as if she was an animal in a zoo. People always looked at her like that when she had her hair down – like she was someone different, someone less strict, someone with less control. And it was annoying too – the hair often got to her face and stuck in her dress buttons.

"Now, we need to make the hair wet," Miss Drill said, taking a bucket she had nearby to her hands. Constance blushed as highly inappropriate thoughts related to the last word crossed her mind.

"Just lean your head a bit back, Miss Hardbroom, I don't want to get your face all wet as well," Imogen instructed and maybe for the first time ever Constance did as the PE teacher told her. The next few moments she tried to put on her most annoyed face ever, while trying to lock out the sensation of being softly touched by the younger woman who was pouring water on her long, dark-brown hair.

"There. Now we use this," Constance looked at Imogen.

She had a strange, L-shaped device in her hand that was connected to the black humming box by a long string. The famous blow dryer, Constance observed. When the device was turned on, it started to blow air. Mildred laughed at Ethel because the sound startled her so much that the snobby girl let out a loud gasp. Imogen was running her hands through the dark hair, drying it and brushing it as well. With every stroke of a brush, Constance felt more and more relaxed, the tension in her muscles completely gone. Nobody had touched her like that, nobody had touched her at all for a very long time and even if she didn't want to admit it, it felt good. It reminded her of another pair of hands running though her hair like that many years ago, and before she could remember anything more, it was forgotten.

Once Miss Drill was done with brushing and drying Constance's hair, she turned off the blow dryer and bowed to her audience.

"Thank you very much – this was a blowdryer! Any questions?"

Many hands flew in the air as Constance stood up from the chair and without a word dematerialized to her room. She hoped the headmistress would understand she needed to re-do her hair. What she needed more than a hair-do was privacy. She could feel her potion's effect weakening and many painful memories started to surface. First she remembered the touches – the rough hands of Heckitty Broomhead and the gentle hands of Elizabeth Blueshine. Then the words – _filthy, undeserving, ungreatful_ – and finally the painful memories.

As fast as she could, the witch reached for her purse and took out the small green bottle. On the edge of desperation, she emptied the bottle and threw it on the bed. In a few moments, she had everything under control. She slowly tied her hair up in her tight bun and took out another green bottle from the drawer. It was the last one. She felt a little alarmed but decided to make more of the potion that night. Putting it to her purse, she dematerialized back to the Great Hall, feeling much better than a few minutes before.

All she needed to do next is talk to Miss Drill about not ever trying out those useless devices on her again.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Just to make matters clear: this is Mildred's third year at the Academy, however I chose not to replace Miss Bat with Miss Crotchet simply because Miss Bat stole my heart and I love her to bits (I think it was hers "Who's looking after the girls in the library right now?" "Oh, I am." - moment that won me over!). I also realize the girls seem to be pretty familiar with all technology devices in the show but I like to think that most of them live in sort of a 'magical family' bubble. Maybe you also noticed the names of the chapters are parts of HB's quotes.:) I hope you enjoy the next chapters because it's going to be hard times for Constance! Thank you for reading and reviewing! _

**Chapter 4: Quite Unlike The Choir of Angels**

When Constance re-appeared in the Great Hall it was Mildred Hubble who was demonstrating the use of a lighter. She held the small device in her hand and moved her thumb over the wheel, creating a flame. Miss Drill was standing next to her, making sure the girl did not burn herself. The girls cheered.

"Why would anybody give Mildred Hubble a lighter is beyond me!" she said to Miss Cackle who was standing next to her. The headmistress smiled.

"I don't think Mildred could burn down the entire castle with one flame, Constance." she remarked but then realized who they talking about. "Well, not under our supervision at least."

Constance observed how Miss Drill sent Mildred away and asked who wanted to help her to demonstrate the use of microwave. Most of the girls raised their hands, waving them in the air. Then she chose Jadu and Maud and told them what to do to make popcorn.

"It surprised me you would agree to participate in the blow dryer demonstration. I merely joked when I asked you if you would like to try it, to be honest. I didn't expect you would agree especially after today's morning."

"Whatever my opinion about this workshop is I am always ready to set an example for the girls. They need to learn that overcoming their fear of the unknown – even in a form of a simple blow dryer – is the first step to be a successful witch. "

She lied. She would have never participated in such an embarrassing act if she had been listening carefully.

"Ah, that is it then," Miss Cackle sounded disappointed. "I almost though it was your way of apologizing to Imogen."

Constance let out a disdainful "Humph!" She had nothing to apologize for to that woman. She had never said anything she wouldn't wholeheartedly believe in.

Miss Drill seemed to enjoy the opportunity to show the girls the devices she used everyday (such as music player when she goes running) and those that might be dangerous for them in the future (a mixer was one of them – a few girls had no idea that the blades would start spinning after a simple press of a button!). Miss Cackle asked Miss Bat to keep an eye on the students during the 'try it out yourself' time, when the girls could borrow any devices they wanted and observe them and Constance was asked to supervise the dangerous devices that were stored next to piano to prevent further accidents. It was likely that the girls would be unconsciously drawn no dangerous devices like moles to a flame. "Miss Drill wants to use them in the second part of the workshop to show the girls how dangerous these things can get," Miss Cackle explained when Constance had asked why they even had dangerous non-witch devices in the Hall.

Between shooting disapproving glances at some girls who got carried away with a microphone and were pretending to be famous singers and keeping an eye on the devices she was guarding, Constance thought about what exactly she would tell Miss Drill. Words such as 'undermining fellow teacher' authority' and 'utterly inappropriate' wanted to make it into her speech but she decided to keep it as short and simple as needed. She didn't feel like talking to Miss Drill for a long time – because that always ended up in an argument. And with the last bottle of her potion she couldn't afford to get carried away with emotions: anger being the most common one to surface when Miss Drill was around.

"Miss Hardbroom, there you are!" she heard a voice behind her and turned back to see who it was.

"Miss Drill."

"I wanted to talk to you right after the demonstration but you disappeared…literally."

Constance blinked a few times, trying to think of a reason the woman would want to talk to her.

"Yes, I am aware of my disappearing but thank you for telling me." the sarcasm in her voice masked her confusion perfectly.

Miss Drill grinned, actually finding her comment rather funny. Before Constance had the chance to start her monologue about why the demonstration was useless and how this workshop was a waste of time, Miss Drill spoke.

"Look, I know we are not on the best terms lately and I realize that I was a little too oversensitive this morning in the staff room. It's just…I am very sensitive when someone points out I am not a witch. Even the girls sometimes make fun of me. Not directly of course but now and then I hear the 'if she were a witch, we wouldn't have to carry these bags like slaves!' comments. It hurts sometimes."

Miss Drill saw the puzzled expression on Constance's face and continued.

"What I want to say is that I overreacted this morning and I am sorry. It's just that you always drive me crazy…" hearing herself and realizing how it came out she stopped talking for a split second and then quickly added: "…with your words. You drive me crazy with your words, that is."

The younger's women cheeks suddenly turned light red under the intensive stare she was getting from Constance. However, she continued, hoping the words would come out right.

"And I wanted to thank you for volunteering for that blow dryer demonstration. The girls were too scared they would embarrass themselves by volunteering first but after they'd seen that you've done it, all the hands went up and suddenly they all wanted to try it out. I don't think it would go half as well if you didn't help me out first."

This took Constance by surprise. She was expecting lots of things from her colleague but an apology and a thank you were not one of them. Maybe she also misinterpreted her volunteering for an apology the same way Miss Cackle did. Miss Drill nervously smiled at her, hoping she would accept her apology. Or at least acknowledge it. Constance thought for a moment about not saying what she was going to say but the emotions that surfaces from Miss Drill's genuine apology seemed to be suppressed by her rational mind.

"Apology accepted. About time I would say."

She saw hurt in the other women's eyes but continued anyway.

"And I would like to ask you not to demand my help in any other demonstrations of your useless devices ever again. It was a mistake that I allowed you to undermine my authority like that in front of the girls and I assure you it will never happen again. That being said, I recommend we focus on our classes and our classes alone – you teach the girls to run around in shorts while I make witches out of them."

With every word, she saw the green eyes fill with tears. Miss Drill wasn't one for crying but a cold criticism from Constance always made people tear up. It was the cold tone in which she spoke and the unshakable confidence behind it. Targeting people's greatest weaknesses was not a very emphatic thing to do but it was only rational to do it in order to dismiss your enemy. Constance thought the word 'enemy' was too strong but what else you call a person opposing you in every matter? Looking at the teacher in front of her Constance was sure she would run away sobbing any moment. She did not.

"I came here to apologize to you and no matter how hard you try to deny it you know this workshop is the right thing to do for the well being of the girls. I don't know what's gotten into you the past few weeks and I don't know how it is possible but you got less human and more like a rules obeying, heartless machine. "

"Oh you think you know me now, don't you?"

"We've been working together for three years now and I dare to say I know who you are trying to be on the outside but all the time I've known - and Amelia and Davina know - that you are not like that. We've seen you smile, we've seen you laugh – we have seen the woman beneath all this black clothing and tied up hair."

Imogen had no idea what had gotten into her. All the thoughts she was only thinking about Miss Hardbroom for years were somehow fleeing out of her mouth, not willing to stay unsaid anymore. It surprised her, really. Especially since all the time she was speaking she had to fight back tears.

"But not anymore. You have…changed."

Before Constance could comprehend Imogen's words, Drusilla run to them and spoke directly at Miss Drill: "Miss, Mildred Hubble stole Ethel your music player and broke it! It wasn't even her turn to listen to it!"

Drusilla looked from Miss Hardbroom to Miss Drill, trying to figure out what was causing the obvious tension between them.

"Okay, Drusilla, I am coming." Miss Drill nodded, knowing she had to sort out that trivial mess. She gave Constance one last look and followed her student into the crowd.

It took awhile till the words finally reached her.

She did not understand why Miss Drill – Imogen - told her all those things. Yes, they were colleagues. Acquaintances, even. Certainly no friends. Yet the PE teacher talked to her with such concern as if she was really worried about her. Maybe she really cared, for some unknown reason, Constance though. She couldn't imagine one reason why she would though, for she never gave her any. Or maybe it was just Imogen's nature – after all, she seemed to be genuinely interested in everybody's lives. Constance was possibly just another person to be interested in, no more than that. Imogen said she had changed. But she did not see it. She was the same old Miss Hardbroom, wasn't she? She assigned lines to Mildred, she scolded girls who hadn't had their laces tied properly and she voiced her opinions. True, she hadn't laughed in a while but laughter was not necessary in order to make decisions. Laughter didn't discipline girls. Laughter did not educate.

_Laughter is for those with no self-control, Constance._

Hearing her former teacher's voice in her head made her sick to her stomach. She had to support herself by laying one hand on the table she was guarding so she wouldn't faint. She closed her eyes waiting for the nausea to pass. Once it did, she straightened herself and took a deep breath. She had to lock out the voice, lock out the memories. For a moment she considered taking a sip from the last bottle of her potion but decided against it, knowing that three bottles in such a short time would be an overdose. She had to deal with this on her own. After suppressing her emerging memories she needed something to busy herself with so she decided to go through the devices she was guarding. At least her hands were not shaking as much when she was examining the so-called 'dangerous non-witch devices'.

* * *

"What is going on in here?" Miss Drill marched between Ethel and Mildred who were in a middle of an argument. She wanted to ask why Miss Bat wasn't the one sorting this out but then she noticed her goofy colleague dancing at the other end of the hall with the first year, listening to her stereo. So much for keeping an eye on all the girls.

"Miss Drill, Mildred broke your device!" Ethel pointed at Mildred who was holding her mp3 player. The screen had a crack on it.

"I did not! Ethel asked me whether I wanted to listen to it and when I touched it, it fell apart! I swear. I didn't do anything!"

"It is true, I saw it!" Maud supported her friend's testimony.

"You're a liar!"

"No, you are! You want to get Mildred in trouble again!"

"She gets herself in trouble on her own all the time! Like now! Drusilla and I have nothing to do with her clumsiness!"

"That is enough!" Miss Drill said in a firm voice, now all eyes on her. She turned to Mildred: "Did you break it, Mildred?" The girl shook her head with tears in her eyes.

"No, Miss, I –"

"Okay. Well, these things happen, girls. Things get broken and then fixed. I am pretty sure a cracked player will still be functional and that is what matters, after all."

Ethel and Drusilla exchanged annoyed looks. It seemed the Mildred could get away with anything!

"I am very disappointed, girls, in your childish behavior. I thought you were mature enough to handle these sorts of incidents but it seems that you are not. If you want to be treated like adults you should start acting like ones. And that includes no finger pointing and no silly accusations in the future." she lectured them, hoping that her disappointment would make them think about their actions.

Mildred seemed genuinely upset, even though Miss Drill somehow knew it really was not her fault. Ethel and Drusilla were up to their old tricks again, she assumed.

"Now I suggest you enjoy the last ten minutes you have to try out the devices and then we will have a demonstration on –"

There was a loud shot. She stopped mid sentence, her words stuck in her throat. Her knees got weak and she fell to the ground, her hand pressed against her abdomen. She had blood on it. She looked up and saw Miss Hardbroom standing in the distance, a gun falling from her hands to the floor. The metal gun collided with the cold stone floor of the castle. The girls started to run around in chaos, screaming. She saw the pure terror in Constance's brown eyes.

Then everything faded to black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: This Will All End In Tears**

She did not realize what happened at first.

She had been examining the devices, the useless non-witch devices and had picked up what seemed to be something similar to be a blow dryer: L-shaped, metal, with a small trigger. She had wondered how many types of these things Miss Drill stored. What good where they anyway? A quick spell would dry your hair faster and with less fuss about it. It was useless. The same could be said about any of these devices, really. She had felt something like a pity for the non-witches. It must have been hard for Imogen to live in a place without electricity when she could not perform magic herself. For a second Constance had felt admiration for the other woman.

While thinking she had been unconsciously playing with the metal device.

Then her finger had slipped – rather unfortunately - and had pressed the trigger. Immediately she had felt pressure against her hands, pushing them backwards. A look of confusion crossed her face. Constance heard a shot. Imogen let out a small gasp and she saw her fall to the ground. The device in her hands was suddenly surprisingly heavy and fell to the stone floor. It was all so quiet around her, only distant screams were echoing in her head. There was movement, girls running all directions but they seemed like nothing but a blur of dark colors to Constance.

She only saw _her_. On the floor with a hand pressed against her body. Red color seeped through her red jumper as vibrant as ever. It was all a mess of colors.

The red blood, dark-blue uniforms, blonde hair and green eyes. Those green alluring eyes were looking up at her with confusion. When she saw Imogen's head fall to ground she realized what she had done. She had shot her. That thought and that thought alone was on her mind for what seemed like eternity. How could she shoot her? Imogen said all non-witch devices need power. The blow dryers needed power. All the devices needed power, why not this one? Why this one did not have to be plugged into that horrible humming black box?

"…she said they _all_ needed power…" she kept saying to herself all over again, fixing her gaze on the unmoving body a few meters away from her.

"Constance!" echoed in her head and she felt someone's hands firmly holding her arms, shaking her.

"Constance! Snap out of it, I need you now."

"I – I did not…she said they all needed…I did not know that…" she whispered, finally snapping out of her shock and realizing Amelia was trying to talk to her.

"I know. I know, Constance. It was not your fault." Amelia looked to her eyes, perhaps trying to find her confidence there but the witch kept her gaze on the seemingly lifeless body on the floor.

"Look at me!" she ordered.

She couldn't. She couldn't possibly look into anybody's eyes after what she had just done. She feared the disdain she would find there.

"Davina is taking the girls to their rooms. She can't take the sigh of blood. I need you to help me get Imogen to the hospital wing, do you understand?"

The headmistress spoke in a firm but desperate voice. Constance nodded, her eyes never leaving Imogen's body. The next few minutes were like a dream. She took a few steps forward, kneeled and put her hands around Imogen's body. Summoning all her magical power she focused on dematerializing them both to the hospital wing. Adding to her emotional chaos she was now also unbelievably exhausted for a very powerful magic was needed to dematerialize something else with her, let alone an unconscious body. Once they were in the hospital wing Doctor Cell took Imogen from her arms, putting bandages over the bleeding woman's wound. Constance had never felt more powerless than when she stood there, watching the doctor work her magic. Spells were cast, potions were used and in a few moments the wound was closed. Unfortunately, so were Imogen's eyes. Not knowing where to go or what to do next Constance run across the castle to the only refuge she could think of - to her chamber. She had no power left to dematerialize herself. Once in her chamber, she closed the door and crushed against the wooden frame, collapsing onto the floor.

Her hair had somehow untied itself, probably when she ran. It was now everywhere, getting to her eyes, tickling her cheeks and stuck to her forehead with sweat. Loud breaths escaped her lips and it seemed like the only sound in the world. She kept her gaze on the stone floor. She was a mess, inside and out. Having absolutely no idea what to do she reached for the only solution she could think of. With shaking hands she opened her purse and took out the small green bottle. The bottle had red smudges on it and she realized they were her fingerprints. She had Imogen's blood on her hands. The horrible realization made her drink the potion in one gulp and she threw the bottle away. It broke against the hard stone walls.

"What have I done?" she whispered and buried her head in her knees. On the edge of desperation, she waited for the potion to take effect.

*

Constance did not know when or how but she fell asleep on that ground. Maybe it was the emotional whirlwind combined with her drained magical power that knocked her out or maybe it was the potion she took. Maybe it was all three of them combined. Whatever the reason was, she did not have pleasant dreams. Or any dreams to be precise. No, what she felt and saw and heard in her sleep were never dreams. They were memories. The long suppressed memories that could not surface at any other time but in her sleep.

There were always different memories but all of them somehow tied together with emotions:

_The memory of her first detention with Heckitty Broomhead always brought fear and pain, her body physically feeling the sharp razor on her forearm._

_The memory of getting a letter with a red wax stamp delivering the news of her mother's death was tied to the painful realization that she was all alone in this world, with the brutal headmistress being the only guardian left for her._

_The memory of standing up in the lunchroom, trembling with anger (no one, not even the headmistress had any right to take away her mother's locket) made her feel powerful – and she was powerful, even at the age of thirteen as could everybody see when all the glass in the room cracked, breaking into million little glass pieces._

_The memory of her first kiss always made her heart – at that time she doubted she had any – beat faster, blood rush to her head and even after all those years she could still feel the soft lips of Miss Blueshine on her own, wishing she could freeze the time._

_The memory of standing in front of the entire school in her graduation robe with her head up made her smile, at that time the smile was not so rare, with pride and joy – and not even the scars on her body could prevent her from sending a small kiss to Miss Blueshine (had she been watching the headmistress, she would have known she was watching them)._

_The memory of that night was the one that haunted her the most; feeling the small hands tracing her body; the melodic voice whispering words of encouragement; the delicate fingers making her feel things she did not know she could even feel; the soft kisses taking away all her pain and fear._

_But it always came back to the worst memory she had - every pleasant memory making that one even worse. She could remember the weak voice of her lover telling her she did not love her anymore, the visible scars on Elizabeth's body, the victorious smile on Broomhead's lips and the sound of heels walking away from her._

The tapping sound did not stop even after Constance felt she was no longer asleep. Opening her eyes at once she found herself lying on the floor covered in sweat. Someone was knocking at her door.

"Constance?"

It was raining outside and the room got darker, the breeze chilling her. She had no idea how late it got and it even took her a few confusing moments to remember where she was. Ah, so they were only dreams. Again. Gathering herself from the floor, she had to support by leaning against the wall. She was weak, even walking caused her trouble. She put her hand to her head as if she wanted to make the newly developed headache go away with that touch.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Who is it?" she barked, not feeling like talking to anybody. Presumably ever again.

"Amelia. Please, let me in."

The headache got worse and she sat on the edge of her bed. Letting anyone in was the last thing on her mind. She had bloody hands, dirty dress, untied hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and was still shaking. It was unthinkable that she would let anyone, let alone the headmistress, to see her in that state.

"Imogen is in the hospital wing, recovering. Doctor Cell healed the wound but she has not woken up yet. We hope she will be alright. Do you want to see her?"

Still no response.

"Constance, please. It was not your fault. Don't punish yourself for something that could have happened to any of us." The witch closed her eyes and focused on blocking out the headache. It did not help.

"Take all the time you need. We can talk about it tomorrow. And please, do not do anything you could later regret, Constance. "

The headmistress sighed and walked away, knowing that the mind and especially heart of Constance Hardbroom could have had a far more dangerous impact on the woman herself than any other weapon in this world.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Constance is starting to remind me of Dr. House. They should hook up one day: y/n? Enjoy the chapter and thank you for the reviews, they make me a happy bunny! _

**Chapter 6: The Last Thing I've Expected**

Constance sat on her bed for a while thinking about what had happened. Now, with the potion intoxicating her blood, she cleared her head of all the emotional ties she had had before.

Only now she realized that the unfortunate harm she caused to Imogen Drill was nothing more than an accident. Of course, she did not plan it nor she wanted it and she acknowledged that it was a rather harsh thing to do but in the end it did shut up the annoying teacher. And wasn't that what Constance had always wanted? She felt a strong jolt of pain in her head and groaned. The headache was starting to get unbearable. Maybe it was a side effect of her potion. Not blaming herself for wounding Miss Drill seemed so easy now when her head was cleared of all those absurd emotions. She had nothing to blame herself for. If anyone was to blame it would have been Imogen herself – bringing such a dangerous device into the castle! The girls could have been hurt. And how would that be explained to their parents? Would that be the image they wanted for Cackle's Academy? Hardly.

Somewhere deep inside, Constance felt it was wrong to think that way. Maybe she even suspected that using the potion was not such a good idea in the first place – the long term use of _any_ potion would sooner or later develop into an addiction and the addiction could cause overdose with many unpredictable symptoms.

One bottle of the potion a day caused any extremely painful memories that would surface when an event or a feeling triggered them to be suppressed and allowed her to make decisions that were not affected by her past experiences and were based on rational mind and rational mind only. It helped her get through the day even though she had to give up most of her sleep due to the fact that the suppressed memories tended to surface when she was asleep. Two bottles of the potion a day were what got her through extremely stressful and emotional situations: such as the visit of Heckitty Broomhead as a school inspector, the camping trip with Imogen when spending her days arguing with the beautiful PE teacher was just_ too much_ or when she caught Drusilla and Ethel kissing in the dungeons (she was sure it was Ethel's idea) and remembered her first kiss. Over the years she observed that two bottles also caused her hands to shake involuntarily and sometimes she lost the feeling in the tops of her fingers which made it hard for her to mix her potions precisely (maybe if she dared to think about it, it would have explained why the gun had shot in her hands).

She had never taken three potions a day. Until now. But she had never needed three potions a day until now, either.

First things first, she had to clean herself. It wasn't only the sweat and blood she tried to wash off her body in the shower and she realized that after twenty minutes of furiously travelling with the sponge up and down her bony self, feeling like the water did not wash anything off. She thought rubbing the soup against her old scars will make them go away (the sight of them always made her furious) but her skin only got redder and more irritated with each stroke. She threw the soup on the ground – angry with herself for trying such a stupid thing. "Siccus saeta!" she hissed when she got out of the shower and felt a light breeze blowing around her body and hair, drying them in a moment. She thought she would feel better after a shower, more relaxed and more content. However, she did not feel anything but the never ending pain in her head: probably the worst headache she had ever had.

The weather outside seemed to reflect her mood. It was dark and chilly, the rain softly tapping on the window parapet. Sitting on her bed, Constance did not know what to do. Usually around that time in the afternoon she was either grading papers or reading a book but she had already graded everything over the weekend and did not feel like reading either. The girls were probably gossiping her now, talking about how they always knew she would _eventually_ kill someone. She could take a walk around the castle to spy on them, maybe assign a few hundred lines of _'I will not call a senior staff member a murder until I have a decent proof about the death of the victim_' but she still felt rather weak to do any of it. The thought of visiting Imogen Drill in the hospital wing crossed her mind briefly but she determined it would be a really pointless thing to do – after all, the woman was unconscious and Constance's visit would not help anything. The potion did not allow any emotions to influence the decision. Needing something to busy herself with for at least a few hours, she took out her lesson plans and focused on re-arranging them taking into consideration today's workshop and how it cancelled her plans for a potion class. A routine in any form tended to get her mind off of things and calm her down and she figured that was what she needed. Besides it was a rational thing to do: after all, the paperwork was mandatory. After that she would go to the potion lab and make more of the potion she so frantically needed in order not to have a complete breakdown.

If you looked through the window into the room, you would see Constance Hardbroom in her violet nightgown, sitting behind a wooden table with papers stored in neat pillars. She was an image of perfection: the contrast between her pale skin and dark hair breathtaking in the candlelight. She would appear as calm and collected as any other afternoon. Maybe you would only notice how her hands were slightly shaking when holding up a paper but she would always put it down before you could observe it carefully.

And then, if you looked through the forced outside appearance, you would see a woman desperately crying out for help. Only no one seemed to listen to her cries.

* * *

"I really hope she will be alright!"

"Of course, don't be silly. Doctor Cell is the best in her profession – remember when Jadu fell from her broomstick that one time? She healed her in no time at all." Enid lectured her worried friend.

"I know but still, there was so much blood!" Maud exclaimed again.

Sitting in Maud's room, the group of friends discussed that day's rather shocking happenings. They were all in their nightclothes, ready to go to sleep any time someone would come and send them to their rooms. Under the circumstances they all assumed it would not be Miss Hardbroom and therefore they did not worry about it much. Mildred was sitting on the floor next to Ruby, leaning against Maud's bed. So far she hadn't said a word about what had happened in the Great Hall earlier.

"You're so quiet, Millie." Ruby noted, poking her leg.

"I am sorry, it's just…I don't know what to say, really. I don't even know what to think about it all." she confessed.

Enid jumped from the bed and in all seriousness said: "I see, Mildred Hubble that you do not seem to know what to say yet again!" The girls, all but Mildred, laughed at the perfect impersonation of Miss Hardbroom. Enid took off a band from her wrist and quickly tied her hair up to an imperfect bun.

"Perhaps I should punish you for not saying anything - but how?"

She crossed her arms, walking back and forth, taking small steps as Miss Hardbroom often did, pretending to be thinking. Any other time, Mildred would find it hilarious. But at that time she did not feel like joking at all and watched her friend with slight annoyance.

"Oh, I know the right punishment for you, Mildred Hubble!" Enid suddenly said and clapped her hands together, pointing two fingers at Mildred.

"Bang bang! Dealing with the annoying students the HB style since 1904!" she said in a loud voice and the girls giggled. Mildred did not find it funny at all. Enid bowed to her audience and winked at the fussing Mildred. "Oh come on, you must admit it was funny!"

"No it was not." the girl protested, standing up.

"Mildred, what is wrong with you? You hate HB! Remember all the lines we have to write for tomorrow?" Ruby pointed out.

The worst witch stood there in Maud's room, thinking. She did not exactly _like_ Miss Hardbroom but she could not imagine her coldheartly shooting other people. She remembered Miss Drill's speech about how they all disappointed her before she was shot and felt ashamed. What if that was the last thing the PE teacher told them?

"Those are just lines, Ruby, it is not a life or death matter. But Miss Drill is in a real danger and I don't think HB would want anybody dead. Just remember how many times she had saved this school from wicked witches and other threats…maybe it was just an accident, you know? Like when I drop something or break something. It just…happens."

Enid looked at Ruby and Maud, who were both looking confused. Remembering how many times HB's powers saved the school, she felt a bit ashamed for her previous performance.

"I need to go now." Mildred said and whispered good night to her friends, closing the door quietly behind her. She headed to her room to sleep but stopped mid-stairs when she got an idea. With a firm expression on her face, she headed to the hospital wing.

* * *

Once Constance started doing something, she never stopped until it was done. Whether it was cleaning, working, or in many cases even relaxing. Things had to be done precisely, after all. This time though, when she was re-planning her lessons, the headache made her give it up after two piles of paperwork when she caught herself reading the same line for the sixth time, not paying attention at all. The headache made it impossible to concentrate. Trembling with anger, she stood up and massaged her scalp for a few moments, hoping it would go away. But it did not, not even after trying to make it go away with a spell she learnt in Magic Medicine class in college that was meant to be used only in emergency situations. And her case was an emergency situation, she reasoned, because if the headache did not go away till the next day, she would not be able to concentrate on her job properly and the future career of all the girls in Academy could be jeopardized.

It was well after seven o'clock when Constance decided to go to her potion lab where she stored all the ingredients needed for making potions. Maybe, she thought, one more little sip of the Rational Potion would get her rid of the headache. She felt the need to transport herself to the laboratory but noticed how her knees were still slightly shaking and her hands couldn't hold a paper straight up and decided against it. Her strength was not completely back yet from the rescue of that irritating physical education teacher. She decided not to take her torch, relaying only on her sense of direction that night. She did not need half of the castle up investigating who was going around and, if found, asking her how she was. Well, she would certainly tell them she was alright, because that is what she kept telling herself and confessing something else to other people would be a bit pharisaical, wouldn't it? Carefully, she went out of her room and closed the door, wishing no one would confront her on her way to the potions lab.

The potion lab was as quiet and organized as any other night. The blue and red bottles were stored in the cupboard with a glass window, the freshly cut herbs were drying on the walls and the moonlight was coming in through the tall windows with green curtains, giving the room a soft blue glow. Any other night Constance would find it relaxing, calming even. That night, however, she found the blue moonlight irritating for her eyes, the smell of the drying herbs was making her sick to her stomach and the only thought on her mind was the potion.

She _needed_ more of her potion.

Knowing the recipe from heart, she hastily grabbed gilead buds, fennel seeds and the essential Solomon's seal root. On her way to the kettle she hung down a bundle of lavender to add the potion the correct color and density. It took her about ten minutes to cut the roots, mix all of the ingredients together and boil the potion to the correct temperature. In the process she managed to cut herself twice but having a little feeling in the fingers she did not even realize it. She felt a little alarmed when she found out that they were out of Solmon's seal root after that kettle of potion. Immediately she calmed herself down, realizing that the potion she was making would be enough for at least a month and in that time she could make the girls gather more roots and would have the time to dry them before running out of the potion her sanity depended upon so badly. Constance thought she heard a strange sound coming from the wooden tables in the middle of the room but she took no time to dwell on that since her headache was making it unbelievably difficult to remain alert and to finish the potion was the most important thing on her mind.

When it was finished she carefully took the kettle and decided to take it upstairs to her room where she would cautiously spill it into her small green bottles. She took two steps forward when suddenly something quickly run out from under the wooden table and taken by surprise she quit hold of the kettle and it fell from her hands, spilling all over the floor with a loud hiss. Her mouth slightly open, she looked at the waste on the floor and right in the middle of that mess she found a girl.

There - looking up at her with tears in her eyes and knowing she got herself into trouble again - was Mildred Hubble.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: There, I said it**

"Mildred Hubble…" the teacher said between her teeth, white with rage.

"I am sorry Miss, I didn't…I only…" Mildred stuttered, fearing Miss Hardbroom. She had seen the potion mistress angry at her many occasions, she had been caught many times before but the image of a woman standing before her was not the same strict HB as always. She did not seem angry; she seemed _mad_. Her hands were shaking, the dangerous spark in her brown eyes making her seem wicked and ruthless. Her face was white, the red thin lips contrasting with her complexion in a truly fearful way. With Mildred on the ground she seemed even taller and stronger than ever before. She was frowning at Mildred, raising her voice. To the girl it sounded more like a shriek.

"You only what! Look what you have done! My potion is all gone now, and –"

In her uncontrollable state, she moved her hand frantically to the right, causing the glass of the cupboard to shatter into many pieces under the power of her irrepressible magic.

" –all—"

Another convulsive movement shattered the potion bottles at the other side of the room.

"—because—"

Mildred felt a jolt of pain in her arm, noticing that she was hit by another wave of glass pieces that went flying throughout the room from the glass windows of the cabinet behind her. Too numb with fear she did not dare to let out the painful cry that got stuck in her throat.

"—of you!" Miss Hardbroom screamed, her breath heavy. Mildred felt like crying for help, whatever was going on with Miss Hardbroom was far too dangerous for her to handle on her own.

"Please, Miss Hardbroom, stop it!" she pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. Her pleas did not seem to affect the witch and in that same hysterical voice, she continued:

"Do you know how long it takes to dry the Solmon seel root? Do you?!"

Mildred felt like she had to respond but before she had the chance to say anything, Miss Hardbroom took one step forward, her slippers wet with the spilled potion.

"Of course you don't, you useless thing! It takes weeks! Weeks, you hear me?!"

With one swift move, she threw off all the books from a shelf next to her, all of them landing on the floor with a loud thud.

"I don't have weeks!" she cried and raised up her right hand in the air, ready to slap the clumsiness out of the girl on the floor.

"Please, Miss, don't hurt me!" Mildred pleaded again, this time closing her eyes shut, anticipating a hit.

"_Please, Miss, don't hurt me!"_

Another voice of a young girl from the past resounded. The voices stopped Constance's hand mid-air, echoing in her head. She looked down at Mildred, so weak and powerless, lying on the stone floor with her eyes shut and her forearm protecting her face. She saw blood on the girl's arm and suddenly she realized what she was about to do. Her hand came down along her body and utterly shocked and disguised with herself, she sank to her knees, empty gaze fasten upon the floor. She felt like she was not getting enough oxygen, causing her to gasp for air. She felt weak, her brain flooded with unlinked thoughts, her heart beating faster with each long surpassed emotion she was now experiencing. Her face was distorted with pain and she bared her teeth, not allowing herself to cry out. Out of the many thoughts in her head, there was one that made her want to throw up: she had became what she had sworn she would never turn into - her sadistic former headmistress. Only thinking of it, she felt the old scars on her forearm burn and put her hands around her torso, letting out a desperate cry. The - quite unexpectedly - she felt a pair of arms put around her hesitantly. She felt the heat radiating from the touch, creeping up her spine and warming up her pale skin.

"It will be alright, Miss." Mildred whispered to her and for the first time in fourteen years, Constance felt tears pouring against her pale cheeks as she let herself cry, desperately clinging to the young girl as if her life depended on it.

And looking back at that night, Constance realized that that embrace was what truly saved her from the slow destruction within herself.

*

The moments after were _awkward_, to say at least, for Constance. She had put herself together and leaned against the wall, feeling and seeing the physical consequences of her previous outbreak.

All the potion bottles she had collected over the years, each one filling with potions that took hours to make were destroyed, spilt all over the floor with what was left from the bottles. Even the glass windows of cupboards and cabarets were either missing completely or had cracks on them. The herbs drying on the walls were now wet and full of glass pieces that made them worthless. The ancient books were lying open on the floor, some of them wet or torn. And then there was Mildred, the fear in her eyes now gone but always on Constance's mind. She couldn't believe she had lost her temper like that; she had never ever even briefly considered slapping a troublesome student and a few minutes ago she had almost done it. Who knows what else she could be capable of if she hadn't stopped herself in the last moment. She had always thought she had enough self-discipline to control her powers but now she saw she was mistaken.

Constance was not out of her mind, as it could seem after such a breakdown. She remembered every part of it clearly and started to analyze what led her to such an emotional outburst.

It was mainly the word 'emotional' that made her realize the true reason behind all this. She could be telling herself how she caused this mess because she was under a lot of pressure lately or how it could have been caused by the (only now admitting it) potion overdose but those were just consequences of her true problem. As much as Constance hated to admit it, she had a problem to deal with emotions. She had thought that dealing with emotions was the same as controlling them. That was what she was always taught throughout her life (and after the affair with Miss Blueshine, the life itself taught her that not controlling her emotions had painful consequences). And since she had had difficulties controlling her emotions she had figured she needed a little help with it. A little toxic help. After all, potions were used as medication all over the world, why shouldn't they help her to deal with her problems? Sitting on the cold floor now, with a terrified Mildred next to her, she saw controlling her emotions did not help her - it only made her worse. She had to find a way to deal with her feelings, not to control them. If these were the consequences of suppressed emotions, then it was really foolish of her to underestimate their power and importance.

"Well, Mildred, I think you should get going. I believe you cannot wait to share this little incident with your friends. Enid might as well build her acting career around it one day." she finally spoke.

The girl lifted her head and with an honest confusion looked at Miss Hardbroom.

"Oh, do not think I don't know of her famous HB impersonations."

Mildred bit her lower lip and looked away, gathering enough courage to say something.

"I won't tell anybody, Miss Hardbroom. I, of all people, know that everybody makes mistakes now and then. Sometimes we don't even realize them until it's too late. " she said, not realizing how her words fitted the situation. The witch thought of how many mistakes the young girl had committed under her supervision and agreed that Mildred knew exactly she was talking about.

"Why are you like this, Mildred – always saying what is on your mind. It only gets you in trouble." Miss Hardbroom asked with a long sigh that she hoped would mask her genuine curiosity.

"Maybe…" she started speaking slowly, still thinking. "Maybe it is because if I didn't say them, I wouldn't have anything else to say." she finished with a small smile. Constance smiled a little at her words and for Mildred it was almost impossible to see that small smile because it was gone in a moment. But she saw it and that added her courage. "Miss Hardbroom, can I ask you something?" she said in a small voice. Her teacher nodded. If one question could compensate for all the fear she had thrust upon the girl a few minutes ago, she might as well let her ask it.

"Go ahead, Mildred." she encouraged her when the girl suddenly got nervous.

"Why are you like this?" she blurred out and then quickly added: "I mean, like you were before, shouting and…" she threw her hands in the air, gesticulating on the broken glass. Just when Miss Hardbroom opened her mouth to say something – even though she did not know what to answer – Mildred added:

"It's because of me, isn't it? Because I make you angry all the time with my clumsiness and my silly comments and goofy behavior and you couldn't take it anymore when I split the potion…"

"Mildred Hubble!"

Constance used her usual strict tone in which she spoke to the girl every time she got herself into trouble. Then, adding in a quiet but equally powerful voice, she continued.

"Do not ever think that anything you have seen tonight had anything to do with you."

"But –"

"Do not interrupt me! You are one of the most courageous and dedicated young witches I have ever met. Everything you do you do with your heart, Mildred, and that is something not many people can say about themselves. Yes, you do irritate me sometimes – well, quite often – with your behavior but there is nothing _wrong_ with you. You are a young girl and you will learn to overcome your clumsiness but never think that you can hurt someone by being who you are. You are not the cause of anybody's problems. Do not let people tell you otherwise, not even me."

Both Mildred and Miss Hardbroom were surprised at the words that were just said. To get rid of the unfamiliar air in between them, Miss Hardbroom stood up, tightened her purple robe and added:

"And now Mildred, get up from the filthy ground and show me that arm. I hope you do not plan to go to bed in such dirty clothes!"

The girl - smiling ear to ear now but unsuccessfully trying to suppress it - stood up and let Miss Hardbroom touch her bloody left arm. There were just scratches but deep enough to make her bleed a little. The potion teacher grabbed the girl's arm softly and traced her fingers up and down, murmuring something Mildred did not understand but figured it was a spell. She gasped when the scratches started to fade till there were nothing more than white lines that would be gone in a few hours. Her light blue sleeve had a little blood on it but that disappeared in a moment as well.

"Woah, Miss Cackle has never showed us such a spell!" she exclaimed.

Miss Hardbroom smiled at Mildred's amazement.

"Yes, and I believe she never will for reasons I will not discuss with a student who is supposed to be fast asleep right now."

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," Mildred answered in her usual bored tone.

The girl was on her way out of the potion class when she saw something on the ground and kneeled to pick it up. Just one step from the doors she turned at Miss Hardbroom again.

"What is it, Mildred?" she crossed her arms and tilted her head.

"I was supposed to bring this to the hospital wing. That was why I was here in the first place – I couldn't sleep so I went to Doctor Cell and asked her if there was anything I could do for Miss Drill. She said I could bring her this bottle of Healing Potion. Can I…?"

The teacher was inclined to allow Mildred to do it at first but then shook her head no. No matter what had happened, it was still after lights-out and the girl was wandering around the castle. The girl started to protest but stopped herself – it was still Miss Hardbroom and so far she had been lucky she hadn't been given any lines.

"I will take it to her." Miss Hardbroom said, seeing the worried face in front of her and she took the bottle from Mildred's hands.

"Thank you, Miss." the young witch said and closed the doors behind her, quietly creeping back to her room.

Constance stood there in the blue moonlight, her hair untamed and the headache still slightly present. She decided to clean up the mess before anyone can notice and was secretly grateful that the room was under a sound-proof spells (because the oh-so-often explosions of the girls' potions that tended to interrupt other class) so no one heard her loud screams and shattered glass. She put the blue bottle for Imogen on the desk and started to clean up the floor, picking up the books first.

_"Thank you, Mildred."_


	8. Chapter 8

_AN: I've been busy watching Afterlife and drooling over Kate Duchene lately that is why I post this so late. I hope you'll like it...I tried to stay in-character as best as I could. No matter how much I would love Constance to just jump Imogen's bones, I need to make sure it is still somehow logical (as much as love can get, anyway). Enjoy the chapter and thank you so much for the reviews!_

**Chapter 8: Using Magic To Cut Corners**

The potion lab had suffered through many accidents since it was established. Even before Mildred Hubble, there were days when pencils would grow to the size of a cat and then chase the students around, sneezing potions would be spilled and cause the whole school to sneeze for a few hours and more than once there had been broken bottles and wet floors. However the state Constance Hardbroom managed to get the room in less than three minutes was quite an accomplishment. And without using spells to fix it all (well, she cast a little 'solum siccus' to dry the floors because really, that would take her forever) it took her two hours to get it all to a somehow decent state. Of course the students would notice the missing potion bottles and drying herbs but she could always tell them she had done a little fall cleaning. Given her reputation, the students would not be surprised that they would have to pick the herbs and flowers again. It would be just another evil task from the old HB to annoy them. As for the broken cupboard glass, well, she would have to think of something. Maybe even blame it on Mildred, after all, if she hadn't broken it the girl certainly would at some point.

Now Constance was sitting behind her teacher desk, hands put together (little finger and pointing finger pointing up, as always) and her chin propped against them. She was fully aware that the potion was still circulating in her blood – no matter how enormous her emotional outbreak was, the potion still worked its magic to suppress it all down to the darkest corners of her heart. However now Constance's rational mind – the one the potion always put in charge – knew that the most irrational thing she had done was using the potion in the first place. She had no other choice but to wait till the last drop is out of her circulatory system and then suffer the withdrawal symptoms. Just thinking about the withdrawal symptoms made her almost rethink if it was all worth it. After all, she did not really harm anybody so far, has she? But then she thought of Mildred and how she had almost hit the student. She wouldn't want to risk any of it to happen ever again. The well being of the students was always on the first place in her rank of priorities and she couldn't put it in danger simply because she had problems to deal with her own emotions. That would be very unprofessional. Her gaze fell on the blue bottle on the desk. It was well after midnight, she did not feel like sleeping and she had promised to bring the bottle to Imogen.

Really, there was only one place she could go: the hospital wing.

*

It was unlike Miss Hardbroom to be nervous. Impatient maybe when people were taking too long to answer her questions. But not nervous. And even now standing before the doors to the hospital wing she still did not accept that the reason behind staring at the wooden frame for more than two minutes was that she felt nervous about entering. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door open and quietly took a few steps forward.

The room was dark, only the moonlight making it possible to see. There were six pairs of beds on the left and right, creating a long corridor between them. Some of the beds had curtains around them for the privacy of the patients even though there was only was patient in the room. At the very end of the corridor was a curtained bed with a candlelight casting shadows around it. Constance closed the doors behind her and taking small and slow steps, she walked to the only occupied bed. She opened the curtains and poked her head in, seeing the unconscious body of her colleague. The PE teacher did not look hurt or in pain, just sleeping. Her eyes were closed, she was tucked in the blanket and her breath was regular. If Constance hadn't known better she would think there is nothing wrong with her. But she knew how misleading the appearance could be in the magic world. It was one thing to magically close a wound and stop bleeding but that never assured that the patient would ever wake up. She could as well stay asleep forever. Just when she wanted to enter the curtain shielded area, she felt someone's eyes on her back.

"I do not intend to suffocate Miss Drill in her sleep, if that is what you are worried about." she said in a cold-ice voice. Doctor Cell raised her eyebrows. Swapna Cell was a small woman with chubby cheeks and short legs. Her hair was unnaturally red but the freckles on her pale skin made it believable that she was a natural redhead.

"I see you brought the potion." the doctor smiled, ignoring the witch's previous comment. "I hope the girl did not get into any trouble. She seemed so desperate to do something for Miss Drill and we were out of the Healing one."

Constance did not say anything she just held out her arm and offered the potion to the doctor. Doctor Cell looked at it, but did not take it.

"Oh, I am sorry but I was just on my way to sleep now. It is your potion and your colleague. She will need to be given the potion in two hours and I believe you can manage to do that." With those words she simply started to walk away. Constance stopped her.

"I did not come to stay here all night, Doctor Cell. I just brought you the potion because sending a young girl to collect it after lights out is not what I would call a very professional thing to do!"

"Well, shooting a fellow teacher is what I wouldn't call a very professional thing to do, either. But what do I know?"

The witch gasped at the casual tone with a hint of amusement the redhead said such a thing with.

"Look, Miss Hardbroom, I am a doctor and the only one here to the top of it. I never know when I will be needed so I need all my beauty sleep I can get. Right now, Miss Drill is your responsibility – I have done everything I could to help her. It is all about waiting till she opens her pretty eyes now. And I do not have the time or the slightest intention to stay with her all night."

"Nor do I!" Constance protested.

"Alright then. But it will be awkward to explain to Miss Cackle why her PE teacher died on the hospital bed due to dehydration when it was you who offered to stay up with her all night."

"I did not offer such a thing, Doctor!" her voice went a few octaves up.

"Oh didn't you? That would be your word against mine, Miss Hardbroom. And taking into consideration it was you who got her here in the first place, I am sure Miss Cackle will believe you, won't she?"

Constance couldn't believe what the doctor was doing. For some reason she always thought that doctors were nice people who smiled sweetly at little girls and gave out sweets after they patched their scratched knees. And the appearance of Doctor Cell fell into that image perfectly. But seeing that the doctor was actually pretty ironic, sarcastic and willing to blackmail her – Constace Hardbroom! – only to have a night off, that was truly an unexpected turn of events.

"Besides, you owe that much to her."

With those words the doctor left the hospital wing, leaving Constance alone with the sleeping blonde.

*

Constance had no idea what to do. She could have left and go to her room and…well, probably stare at the ceiling all night long hoping Imogen won't die till the next day. Or she could stay in the hospital wing and make sure Imogen_ will _be taken care of. The irresponsible doctor! How could the woman just let her patient be there with no supervision! She found it highly unprofessional. Seeing that she had no other choice (she ruled out waking up Amelia at this ungodly hour), she sat down in a chair next to the bed. The first few minutes she was sitting up with her back straight as a ruler, hands resting in her lap and just observed the woman. Feeling a little paranoid when it was the third time in a minute that she thought the PE teacher was not breathing, she moved her chair a little closer (of course just to keep track of her breathing), her knees touching the side of the bed now.

What was she to do? Just stare at Imogen the whole night? As Constance thought about it, it would not be _such_ a terrible idea. However unpleasant the discovery was for her she found out that she liked to watch the younger woman. She liked to observe her from the distance like that time in the Great Hall. She kept telling herself that it was for teaching purposes – after all, Amelia had told her to get to know her colleagues better at the beginning of this year. And to observe a person was the best way to get to know them. Habits and gestures could reveal so much about personalities. Of course, actually talking to people was a much more effective way of getting to know them as Davina once pointed out. Still, Constance tried to avoid informal chatting because even when she did not always intended to say something that would hurt the other person she usually ended up arguing with them anyway. Or they run away sobbing, screaming and locking themselves in the cupboards. Constance wasn't exactly known for her amazing chatting skills.

After an hour of practically shamelessly staring at the sleeping blonde, Constance dared to touch the unmoving hand. The decision was made on the grounds of finding out if her skin was as soft as it looked like. It was in a name of science, she reasoned.

It was indeed very soft.

Satisfied with her new discovery, Constance smiled. By observing she formed a theory that Imogen's skin would be soft and by touching her she proved it. As she had always said, observing could be equally informing as informal chatting. While being very pleased with herself she automatically traced her fingers up and down Imogen's arm and only realized what she was doing when her fingers brushed Imogen's exposed collar bone. Quickly, as if she burnt herself, she pulled her hand back.

_Oh, how inappropriate!_

What was even more terrifying than her inadvertent movements was that the witch found herself _liking_ the sensation the touch gave her. As a matter of fact, she found herself liking it so much that she had to change her sitting position and cross her legs. Taken aback by her own physical reaction, Miss Hardbroom decided she would only look at Miss Drill after that, no matter what theories were forming in her head (Were her lips as soft as they looked like? Is she a natural blonde?). Trying to ignore her ever-present headache she closed her eyes for a moment…and before she knew it she fell asleep: her head on Imogen's bed, lightly touching her side.

At some point in her sleep, her hand found Imogen's and held it.


	9. Chapter 9

_**AN**: In this chapter I tried to show that Imogen and Constance did not just decide one sunny day that they're going to like each other. All relationships have to be built somehow and well...that is especially difficult when talking about Miss Hardbroom. I am also super excited about having an awesome Beta now! Kudos to fellfromgrace for her amazing grammar skills and pointing a few things out that I never thought of! Thank you! And btw, I did not put 'dreams' into italics as many people do because that would be too much italics for one chapter. Enjoy.:)_

**Chapter 9: Have I Missed Anything?**

Maybe it was the physical closeness that made Constance remember those little moments involving Imogen that night. Or maybe they were the memories the potion successfully suppressed when she had been awake. Maybe it was because, for some reason, Constance dreamt of the PE teacher quite often anyhow.

Whatever the reason, she smiled in her sleep, remembering those four years with Imogen Drill.

_**the first incident:**_

Constance looked out of the staff room window, curious why a young woman was standing there with a sports bag over her shoulder. It was a hot summer day, the end of July and she was waiting for Miss Cackle to return from her one month holiday to Paris so they could start preparing for the new school year. The letters about required books, brooms and clothes would not send themselves. That and many other issues required the headmistress's immediate attention.

The young woman spotted Constance in the window and waved. She had a huge smile on her face, sunglasses making it impossible for the witch to see her face properly. After a loud sigh she opened the window.

"Can I help you?" she spoke, the words coming out with difficulties. Not speaking to anybody for a month reflected in her voice.

"Yes, is this the…uhm, Cackly Academy?"

She rolled her eyes. "Cackles Academy."

"Oh, yes, that. I am sorry. The handwriting in the letter is rather hard to read."

"May I ask who you are?"

The blonde came closer to the window and offered Constance her hand.

"Imogen Drill, I'm here to teach."

"I am Constance Hardbroom, deputy headmistress of the Cackle's Academy for Witches."

They smiled at each other. That was before Amelia informed her that the new teacher would be teaching a new revolutionary subject at the Academy – physical education. After that discovery, Constance did not even bother to build any respect for the blonde.

_**the second incident:**_

She watched as Imogen walked to the broom shed. Standing in the west tower and looking outside through the narrow window, the woman wouldn't be able to see her even if she looked up. Constance did not want to watch at first but the way the blonde nervously looked around to make sure no one is watching made the witch interested in what her intentions were.

Imogen took one broom out and carefully examined it. She slid her hands up and down the long handle and then firmly grabbed the ends with both hands. She tapped the broom once. Constance raised her eyebrows in disbelief. What on earth was the woman trying to do with it? She saw Imogen's lips move. First it was a whisper, then a loud command: "Hover!" Imogen unclenched her fists. The broom fell to the floor, not being able to defy gravity. The PE teacher glared at it for a moment and then put it back in the shed.

When she was leaving, Constance noticed she wiped her tears away.

**the third incident:**

"Does the woman really have that much power over you?"

They were alone in the staff room that morning. Amelia was enjoying her Tuesday walk (which usually led to cheese cakes in Cosie's Tearoom) and Davina was probably chewing milk flowers somewhere on a meadow. All the teachers were glad that the school hadn't been closed down by the inspector the day before and decided to – as Imogen called it – seize the day.

Constance looked up from the tests she was grading. "Who are you talking about?"

"Inspector Broomhead."

"Mistress Broomhead is a very powerful witch, Miss Drill. She taught me all I know."

"That isn't what I asked."

Constance wet her lips and swallowed, hoping the stress she always felt when mentioning her former headmistress would go away. She chose not to answer the question and kept her focus on grading the papers. She felt Imogen was watching her, waiting for an answer.

"I cannot imagine what the woman must have done to make you, Constance Hardbroom, fear her."

"No, you cannot." the witch said and continued grading the potion tests, saying nothing more.

_**the fourth incident:**_

"Maiden Aunt? Honestly Miss Drill, was that really necessary?"

Constance pouted her lips and took off the ridiculous hat she was wearing. She could deal with pretending not to be a witch for a day but the maiden aunt comment hurt. Miss Drill kneeled next to her.

"What was I supposed to tell him? You just marched in there and spoke to him as if he was a little boy who had done something wrong. You cannot talk to people like that!"

"Let's suppose I understand your reasons for telling him I was an eccentric aunt. But a maiden, really? Do you think I am so cold-hearted that I have never had a relationship?"

She did not intend to get into such a conversation but she was annoyed by all the nature and hiking and needed to shout at someone. The blonde seemed a little surprised.

"Well, no…I don't think that. I just never thought…you have never said anything about anybody. Also, you seem to hate men. I assumed you…"

"Maybe next time you could ask before assuming and get your facts right. And just for the record - I do hate men."

"Sounds like a broken heart to me." Imogen patted her knee.

"I dislike the XY chromosome carriers because they are arrogant, dumb and primitive, Miss Drill. Not because I suffer from what you call a _broken heart_." she almost spat out the last two words.

"That's rather harsh, Miss Hardbroom! And only because a man broke your heart!"

"For heaven's sake! There has never been a _man _in my life, Miss Drill!"

"But didn't you just say…"

"I said what I said. And now if you excuse me, I have to practice my _strange oriental art of silent running_!" she said, crossed her arms and disappeared.

_**the fifth incident:**_

When Constance heard the unusual sounds coming from the Great Hall, she knew something was wrong. She suspected it had something to do with Mildred Hubble and her suspicion was confirmed when she heard a girl's voice scream: "Millie!", followed by a high pitched scream. Miss Drill arrived in the hall a few seconds before Constance and the witch heard her shout at the girls.

"What are you doing there, Mildred?! Get down this instant!"

"I can't, Miss. I don't know how!"

Constance entered the hall and saw Mildred floating in the air, high above their heads. It was the strangest sight ever, yet not the most unusual. Maud looked really frightened, Ruby, Enid and Jadu were just staring at their floating friend and Drusilla and Ethel were smiling.

"Floatus abovus, stopinium peratus!" she said and the beams of magic light coming from her fingers brought Mildred down to the floor. She opened her mouth to scold them but Miss Drill was faster.

"Mildred, you cannot just float around like that! You could have hurt yourself or floated away from the castle, and how do you think we would explain that to your parents?! Be ashamed of yourself, using magic without any supervision or enough skills to handle it!"

"I 'm sorry Miss Drill but it wasn't my fault! I just…" the girl started to speak but the teacher cut her off.

"I do not care whose fault it was. I told you this morning not to use magic when I am supervising you and yet you do. You are very lucky that Miss Hardbroom was here to help you down. I think you owe her a thank you."

Both Mildred and Miss Hardbroom were surprised by how disciplinary Miss Drill got all of the sudden. The student turned to her potions teacher and looked down. "Thank you, Miss Hardbroom."

_If I got a penny for every time I saved a student from a situation like this, I could have owned the castle by now, _she thought_._

"And now, I expect all of you to run every morning five miles with me around the castle for the rest of the week as a punishment for today. You too, Ethel and Drusilla."

"Five miles?" Mildred complained. Ethel started to protest and turned at Miss Hardbroom. She ignored her.

"Can't Miss Hardbroom assign us the punishment instead?"

Constance almost smiled at the pleading tone Mildred used. She would never think the girl would ask for a punishment from her_. They really must hate PE._

"You heard your teacher, Mildred." she said.

When the girls were gone, Miss Drill turned to Constance and grinned. She seemed satisfied with herself.

"Now that was fun. This must be how you feel all the time, isn't it?"

Constance couldn't help it and smiled back, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. Miss Drill saw it and giggled, putting her hand over her mouth in order to keep it quiet. Constance felt a strange connection between them, something she did not expect at all. She walked away before Imogen could stop her to ask what was going on.

_**the sixth incident:**_

Constance didn't drink often. She disliked the smell of alcohol because it reminded her of her home and she did not like to think about those times. But it was after the basketball tournament and they were celebrating. She had one glass of wine (Amelia insisted), two glasses of wine (because the first bottle was almost empty anyway), three glasses of wine (Davina did not want to come out of the closet unless they all drank with her) and when she emptied the fourth glass, she realized she was alone with Imogen in the kitchen.

She was sure it was the alcohol in Imogen that made her reach out for her pale hand and squeeze it. She was almost certain that if she wasn't drunk she wouldn't allow her to touch her but at the time she merely winced at the touch.

Imogen looked in her eyes and just stared at her for what seemed like eternity. What shocked Constance more than the touch and the way Imogen's eyes examined her face was that she allowed it. She did not say anything, did not run away, she didn't even look away. She just kept her gaze on Imogen, trying to memorize every single detail about her.

It was a few moments later when they heard Davina sing at the top of her lungs that they stopped staring at each other and went to shut the woman up and help her to get to her room safely. Neither of them spoke about that night the following day. After all, there was nothing to talk about…was there?

_**present:**_

Imogen did not expect to wake up in a bed. Actually, she did not expect to wake up at all. She did not remember going to sleep and therefore the soft mattress under her body surprised her. She was also lying in an unnatural position for her – she preferred to sleep on her side rather than her back. It was all very strange and she tried to remember what happened a few moments ago.

Or was it a few moments?

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, her gaze a little blurry. It took her a few seconds to adjust to the soft candlelight around her and she felt the need to scratch her neck. However, when she tried to move her left hand, she realized that someone was loosely holding it. She looked to her left, only to find dark hair spread all over the side of the bed. There was only one person with such beautiful long hair at the Academy, but no, that couldn't be. Just when Imogen had remembered what happened in the Great Hall and all of it was starting to make sense, the sight of the woman next to her confused her.

There was no way Constance Hardbroom would be sleeping next to her, holding her hand like that.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:**_ Let's do a little maths here: this story takes place in the year 2000 (third season), even though it is not important to the plot or anything. Constance was born in 1959 as Kate Duchene was - and also as Kate Duchene I like to think it's January 5th because of HB's words to Miss Crochet 'Yes, and I was born under Capricorn...' (in season 3, episode 12: The Unfairground) and as you know, January 5th would make her a Capricorn. That means when this story takes place, Constance is 41. She's been at the Academy for fourteen years (from 1986) - the age of 27 and she graduated the Witch Training __College__ (I will give it a proper name later) in 1984 when she was 25 (that two years gap will be mentioned in my story, too)._

_I am explaining all this because I think it's important I stick to the years since I am talking about her past and randomly mentioning it in the story and I find it only fair that you could place it in the right time, purely because I want it all to make sense to you the same way it does to me, the author.:)_

_Also, I made a trailer for this fanfic and you can find it on my youtube channel by searching for 'blondie0136'. Thank you so much for reading and all the amazing reviews - they do inspire me, really! I wanted to post this beta-read already but you've been waiting for so long, I just couldn't make you wait any longer! It will get replaced by the beta-read version at some point.:) And now, let's see how Imogen and Constance are doing, shall we? ^_^_

_

* * *

_**Chapter 10: I Sleep Most Nights **

The sunbeams gently caressed the sleeping witch, making her stir on the bed. She felt the warmth soaking through her skin, warming it up slowly, as if it intended to gently wake her up. After a few moments she surrendered and opened her eyes, just to close them again because the light was too strong. She lifted her head up from the bed and looked around, her heart caught in her throat when she saw that Imogen was not only awake but she was also watching her. She quickly stood up, her hand brushing Imogen's as she did so. The fact the woman was holding her hand – or was it Constance who was holding Imogen's hand? – surprised her and left her speechless. She just looked down at her colleague and stared at her, trying to pull herself together and calm down her racing heart. Moments like these made her wish she could control her body's reactions in the same way she could control her words and thoughts.

"Good morning," Imogen said and smiled at Constance.

"Good morning, Miss Drill."

The words were automatic, anybody would respond like that to a polite greeting. She was still confused about what to do and say but she tried not to let it show. The safest option was to comment on the situation.

"I see that you are awake."

Imogen nodded and sat up on the bed, looking away from Constance. She had been awake for some time now, just watching the older woman sleep, occasionally playing with her long, ebony hair (something she was sure the witch would never _ever _allow her to do if she were awake). She had seen the sun rise and the light slowly creep from the window onto the bed, waking the witch up. All that time she had not let go of Constance's hand, enjoying the serenity the touch provided her with. She looked back at the brunette and couldn't help it but wordlessly ask for an explanation for the witch's presence.

"I was assigned to look after you tonight," Constance said a bit too defensively, as if the question in Imogen's eyes offended her. "I shall go now and notify Doctor Cell that you woke up and that I am no longer needed here."

A small part of Constance wished the woman would stop her from leaving. However, Imogen just turned her eyes to the ground, a disappointed look crossing her face briefly. Had Constance known how much Imogen wanted her to stay, she would have understood why her lie about being _assigned_ to be there hurt the younger woman so much. After the witch left, Imogen curled up in the white sheets and sobbed, the unexpected sadness she felt making her both angry with herself and upset. The lack of Constance's presence made her feel empty, just now realizing how foolish her thoughts about the woman staying the night because she actually _cared _for her were...

*

It was twenty minutes later when Doctor Cell appeared in the hospital wing. The redheaded woman smiled sweetly at Imogen, holding a tray with breakfast in her hands.

"Rise and shine, sweetie!"

Imogen managed to smile a little even though she did not feel like it.

"Aw, I am sure you can manage a better smile, Miss Drill. Here – I brought you something yummy. It's Miss Tapioca's best croissant in the world."

Doctor Cell sat on the right side of her bed and put the tray with milk and a deliciously smelling croissant in Imogen's lap. She was grateful the doctor did not sit on the left side where Constance had been earlier because that would make her think of the witch. Realizing that thinking about _not_ thinking about Constance completely ruined the meaning of, Imogen sighed.

"So how are we feeling this beautiful morning?"

"Good, I think. To be honest, I don't really remember what happened. I remember the sound of gun and then I blacked out. I suppose I was shot?"

"Yes, my dear. It was rather unfortunate. The bullet hit you in the abdomen and caused quite a mess. If Miss Hardbroom didn't bring you in so quickly, you would probably bleed out to death. You were very lucky."

"Miss Hardbroom?"

"Oh yes, she brought you here last night. Poor thing, she was beyond herself. I don't think I had ever seen her so frightened before."

It was strange to believe that Constance was the one that caused her the pain and saved her at the same time. She knew it must had been an accident that the gun fired – she blamed herself for even having a loaded gun at school, what was she thinking?! – and she did not blame the witch for it. At the same time, however, she couldn't believe that the restrained woman would care whether she died or not. It was rather harsh to think that about someone and Imogen realized it, feeling a bit ashamed that Constance's actions surprised her. To save a life was human and after all, the witch _was_ human.

"She begged me to let her stay with you the night," Doctor Cell added and patted Imogen's hand, the sweet smile never leaving her face. Imogen found it strange to associate the word 'beg' with Constance in any way. She wasn't that kind of person who would beg for anything, maybe not even if her life depended on it. She was too proud for begging.

"Begged? Miss Hardbroom – really?"

"Well, in her own way of course," winked the doctor and stood up. "Now, please, eat your breakfast and get some sleep. I will notice Miss Cackle about your condition and check on you later. I know it doesn't hurt any more but you need to take it slow."

"No, it doesn't hurt at all. It's very strange."

She lifted the white hospital gown and looked at her abdomen, noticing a few almost invisible scars. She couldn't believe she was ever shot there: if it wasn't for magic, she would probably be in a lot of pain. She was used to pain – as anyone who climbed and run would be – and it was difficult for her to accept the injury without it.

"The magic healed you but that doesn't mean your body understands it, darling."

"What does that mean?" Imogen asked, curiously tracing the scars with her fingers.

"You see, magic is very powerful. It can heal the wound and close it but usually leaves the body confused. Especially when you are a non-witch. You don't feel it now but there will be times in your life when you will. Anything can trigger the pain – a sound, a sight, a strong emotion connected to the injury."

The blonde looked at her with a confused expression. Doctor Cell took a deep breath and tried to explain it some more:

"Have you broken a bone before?"

Imogen nodded.

"Sometimes, even after the bone is healed, you can be sensitive to – for example – weather changes. This works a bit like that. Even though the wound is healed, sometimes you will feel the pain because your mind connects the pain with the memories of the accident. You will think the pain is real because for your mind it will be. In my opinion, the non-witch way of healing people is better: you suffer a few weeks and then it's gone. Magic makes you not suffer at all at first and then bear the pain for the rest of your life."

Doctor Swapna Cell took out a small bottle from her pocket and put it on the tray, saying it will help Imogen sleep. Imogen noticed there was another bottle, a blue one, placed on the bedside table.

"Shouldn't I drink this one first? It's been here from the moment I woke up."

The doctor grinned, remembering what she had said to Miss Hardbroom last night about it being _essential _the PE teacher drinks the potion. Oh, she was such a good liar.

"No, it's alright. It's a Healing Potion and you do not really need it anymore. Actually, I don't know what it's doing here!"

The patient nodded and took a bite from the crunchy croissant. It really was the best croissant she had ever tasted! The redhead smiled as she was leaving, feeling refreshed and full of energy. If only she could get such a good night sleep like that every night. If only everybody was so easy to trick into doing her job instead of her as Miss Hardbroom was.

*

There were no pupils roaming the corridors at that time but they soon would be. The sun warmed the castle up, summoning a seemingly calm atmosphere. At this particular morning, however, Constance did not stop to admire the magnificence of the Academy and rushed up stairs to her chamber as fast as she could. Once in her room she could afford to panic a little and paced back and forth, trying to sort out her feelings about the situation she found herself in.

First, she had to be clear on what the situation was. After thinking it over, she realized that her only problem was with herself: she was mad at herself for showing Imogen that she cared, which – as the witch was convinced – made her appear weak in the woman's eyes. She did not like to appear weak, especially not to a non-witch.

Second, she needed to categorize her feelings. In the world of Constance Hardbroom there was no room for confusion and everything had to fall under a known category: feelings were no exception. The woman stopped and leaned against the stone wall, cooling herself down a bit. She felt scared but did not know what of; she felt guilty but it wasn't about the gun accident; she felt ashamed but had no reason to be; she felt jealous but could not figure out of what or who. She felt all these things at once and it confused her – ruining her system of the imaginary boxes labeled with the names of emotions she had in her head.

Above all, she could still feel the warmth of Imogen's body beside her and that, oh _that_ made her head spin.

She decided to skip morning notices that day – lying to herself that it was simply because there was no point in showing up when Imogen was recovering and Davina would be hiding in the cupboard and there would only be Amelia. It would be completely pointless to only talk to only one person and even if the headmistress wanted to share some news with her, she would call her to her office later. At first she felt a little guilty for not going - breaking her 9 years long record of not missing a single morning notices gathering - but then she thought about how Imogen doesn't show up almost every other day (because she was running in the forest and forgot the time) and how Davina spends most of the in the cupboard anyway and that made her certain that she could afford not to go this one time.

Instead she opened her wardrobe and examined the black dresses. They all looked the same at the first glance but she knew that every one of them was unique in its own way – from the satin one with a one of a kind pattern to a special leather dress from India. Each one somehow reflected her mood and after some time she learnt to actually adjust her mood to the dress she chose in the morning. It was very strange in a way and she realized it must had been one of the side-effects of the potion (or maybe it wasn't a side effect but the consequences of what she wanted). It was a very rational way how to dress because when she knew what would the day bring (and she knew because the days at Cackle's were not all that diverse) then she could choose an appropriate dress which would remind her to act according to her pre-planned mood. That way she didn't have to be distracted by random thoughts or unexpected emotions.

The moment she found herself staring at the dresses, not knowing which one to choose, was the moment when she realized the potion was slowly leaving her blood stream. Any other day she would have no problem to choose one and to get dressed in approximately 4 minutes (that was the average time rounded, the average was actually 3, 48 minutes…yes, she had calculated it). That morning, however, she was clueless. Fashion was not one of her strengths and when there was no rational reason on which to base her dress choice, she was perplexed.

After a few moments of utter confusion she closed her eyes and took out the first dress she grabbed. It was the purple taffeta one with some sort of Gothic pattern. Her eyebrows came together in sheer disapprovement. She couldn't wear that, it was too dramatic. She would look like an attention seeker. She had to choose something else. She took another dress out and examined it, shaking her head no again. It took Constance Hardbroom twenty more minutes to get dressed and to brush her hair, leaving the room in a hurry because the first potions class was about to start. She was nervous and trembling but refused to show it to the girls. She had to maintain her authority and continue with her lesson plans. It was a blessing that the headache from yesterday was gone and she was glad that there were no withdraw effects from the potion.

Maybe if she wasn't in such a hurry, she would remember that the serve headache _was_ a first symptom and that paranoia, along with irritation would soon follow.


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Since birthdays (my bday today! ^_^ Can I has HB?) are meant to be celebrated, I decided to update with a chapter that is twice as long as usual.:) Enjoy & Review! _

**Chapter 11: I Really Don't Know What You Mean, Headmistress!**

"Did she do that to you?"

Constance heard Enid's voice and stopped in her tracks, deciding to find out what the girls were talking about first before she enters the potions lab. It was always good to know what was on the young witches' minds because then it was easier to shush them down during the class with precisely worded comments that made them think she could read minds.

"No…well, yes. But it was an accident!" Mildred replied and through the small window in the doors, Constance could see she rolled down her sleeve. Was she showing Enid the scratches from their yesterday's late night encounter?

"An accident? She could have killed you!" Enid continued.

"She didn't mean it, really. I…I did something wrong and…it wasn't her fault, it was mine."

It didn't matter to the witch that Mildred was trying to cover up for her. There was only one thought on her mind and that was that the girl broke her promise not to tell anyone and now everybody knew about her break down! The stupid chatty brat had to share it with all her friends, she couldn't keep her mouth shut – _it's always like that with Mildred_! Constance felt the rage overcoming here, consuming all her rational thoughts. She felt betrayed by the girl, gossiped about and hated. Before entering the class, she had to calm down or she wouldn't be able to control her powers and that could end in tears, as she used to say.

"We need to tell Miss Cackle. She's getting too dangerous - what if she attacks someone else the next time, huh?"

"No, Maud. I promised I wouldn't tell anybody! It's bad enough the three of you know…!" Mildred voice was desperate with a hint of anger.

"Quiet!" the well-known ice cold voice filled the room and shortly after that their fearsome potions teacher appeared in front of the blackboard, her arms folded and eyebrows brought together in a dangerous frown. All the girls took their seats and the excited chatter disappeared. Instead, the air was filled with tension and fear. It was only yesterday that Miss Hardbroom shot Miss Drill and for all the girls but Mildred it was the very first time they saw her since then. They had many questions but no one would dare to ask them. They wondered about Miss Hardbroom's attitude to all of it, wondered about whether the action was intentional or not. The teacher looked around the class, seeing the accusing looks and hateful glances. She was being examined by her students – her posture, her hair, her dress…she was being judged. Everybody in the class hated her and the healthy respect they had for her turned into sheer fear. Finally after all those years, they saw her as a true dictator: someone who rules with fear and fear only. She saw all this in their eyes and their faces.

"Good morning, girls," she greeted them as every morning.

"Good morning, Miss Hardbroom," they all replied as they always did. However this time Constance heard the disdain in their voices and it seemed to her they were trying to mock her by emphasizing 'good'. The girls seemed wicked, united in their hatred for the teacher. Her lips formed a thin line as she slowly eyed every pupil in the class, looking for anything she could used against them._ They need to be controlled and to learn that no matter how much they hate their teacher, they cannot let it show like that!_

"Tie up your bootlaces, Mildred," she finally said, picking on the girl that had betrayed her trust. Mildred looked down at her shoes, the laces tied and neat.

"But Miss, my laces are…" she started but it took just a blink of an eye and the bootlaces undid themselves on their own. The girl's eyebrows shot up in confusion. She looked at Miss Hardbroom and then back at her laces, getting the feeling that the teacher had something to do with it.

"Your laces are, in fact, untied! Yet again! I will not tolerate this any longer – after three years one would think you would know how to perform a simple task of tying up two strings together but no, a girl like you never learn, does she?" her voice was different than usual, Mildred noticed. The witch spoke with more feeling than usually, the ice-cold tone melting under the burning anger. The young girl didn't like this anger because it felt untamed and dangerous, which scared her.

"I swear they were tied up a few seconds ago!" she exclaimed, not willing to be picked on unfairly. It was one thing when the teacher scolded her for something that was her fault (intentionally or not) but this was almost bullying. Mildred was, after all, fourteen and being rebellious and not afraid to stand up for herself were the characteristics many girls of her age shared. Miss Hardbroom lifted her chin a little higher, her lips forming a proud pout, the upper lip slightly sticking out. That was never a good sign.

"A few seconds ago, I wasn't here. Does that mean I am not here now?"

"No, Miss Hardbroom," the young witch sighed, giving it up and doing up her laces. That was a fight she couldn't win.

"Do not sigh like that when I assign you a task, girl! 500 lines of '_I will fulfill my assignments without a word and never forget to do up my laces again.'_!"

All the girls in class, excluding Ethel and Drusilla, exchanged disapproving looks and Enid whispered something to Maud. Mildred opened her mouth to argue but Jadu poked her in the ribs and shook her head, indicating her friend to be quiet. There were moments when a student did not have the right to speak up, no matter what the circumstances. That was one of them.

"Now, who can tell me what we learnt last week?"

When questions like _that_ were asked, all the eyes in the class automatically fell to the ground and the silent wish of not being asked to answer was almost audible. Constance looked around and saw Jadu patting Mildred's back in an attempt to cheer her up.

"Jadu Vali, for example, since you seem so lively today." Jadu was visibly in distress – she was one of those people who didn't handle being under pressure well. She gulped and shifted in her seat, remembering what they learnt last week.

"We were talking about roots, Miss Hardbroom," she managed to say.

"Yes, so according to you we spent the entire last week chatting about roots, drinking tea and smiling at each other, didn't we?"

The girl did not dare to answer that. Constance let out a contemptuous sound that was supposed to point out Jadu's lack of knowledge. "Jadu, you will write out 500 times '_I must pay more attention to what we do in class.'_" The girl nodded.

"Anybody can answer my question _correctly_?" she looked around the class.

"We were talking about how important it is to know the difference between the many sorts of roots and how to distinguish between the ones that look alike, Miss," Maud spoke.

Any other time, Constance would be satisfied with this answer. After all, it was exactly what they were doing last week. But since that morning everything seemed as an insult to her, even Maud's correct answer seemed to be mocking her. She wouldn't have that from anybody! And most certainly not from a member of Mildred's gang!

"Did I ask you to answer me, Maud Moonshine? Do you think you can just speak up like that, without even raising your hand?"

Maud looked as if she was about to cry. She was proud of her knowledge and to express herself in class was not easy for her due to her shyness. Miss Hardbroom was harsh and mean to her and the girl didn't deal well with that sort of attitude towards her. She shook her head, uttering a quiet: "No, Miss Hardbroom."

"I expect 500 lines of _'I will not speak in class unless I am directly asked to answer.' _from you, Maud!"

Ruby leaned to her friend and whispered words of encouragement to her. When Constance saw that, she was certain that the irritating technology girl was telling her friend what a bitch the teacher was. _Such disrespect!_

"Ruby Cherrytree, how about you come to the board and tell me the difference between these two pictures?"

She motioned towards the blackboard and two pictures of roots appeared there. Ruby seemed shocked. Why would Miss Hardbroom pick her for the task?The teacher knew that Ruby needed help with recognizing the roots since she wasn't able to do the homework the day before. Whatever the reason, Ruby didn't want to fight with Miss Hardbroom and obediently walked to the front. She stared at the pictures, both roots looking the same to her, only from different angles. She did not say a word.

"Well? Which one is the Indian grass?" the teacher asked, already sure that her pupil hadn't got the slightest idea. She wanted her to respond though, to be humiliated in front of the whole class, so she would see how it feels to have everyone's eyes on her all the time.

"I don't know, Miss," Ruby said.

"For this awful performance you got an F, I hope that will motivate you to study for your potion class harder. Now sit!" Miss Hardbroom hissed.

She looked around the class again, noticing that the girls were no longer looking at her. Some of them were staring at their hands or tables, others were pretending to be redrawing the roots pictures to their notebooks just to avoid her gaze. The tension could be cut with a knife, however, Constance assured herself that she was doing the right thing. Enough was enough and she was fed up with their annoying comments, their incompetence and the way they all danced through life. Oh, how the young girls irritated her – so immature, rude and full of themselves. Since they decided to hate her so much, she should at least give them a proper reason! They thought she was strict before? Well, maybe picking up a few methods Mistress Broomhead had used on her when she was their age will teach them a lesson!

Everybody was surprised when Ethel Hallow raised her hand to ask a question. Mildred wondered why would anyone in the right state of mind ask Miss Hardbroom a question when she seemed to be in an extremely bad mood but then realized that the rich girl was probably trying to show the rest of the class how she was indeed Miss Harbdroom's favorite pupil and the no matter what mood the potion teacher was in, she wouldn't dare to be mean to her.

"What is it, Ethel?" the witch asked, still highly irritated.

"I wanted to know why the lab is in such a messy state. There are cupboard glasses missing, Miss! Is it true that Mildred saw---"

"Enough!"

There was so much anger in that one word that it scared the girls. Miss Hardbroom's hand were shaking, her strict gaze upon the curious girl. Not even the fact that she was a Hallow could save her from being subjected to the deputy's rage.

"You will write out 500 lines of_ 'I will not distract myself from learning by observing the environment around me and I will not ask questions that are completely unrelated to my studies._' Is that understood, Ethel?"

Judging from Ethel's face, it was not understood. She couldn't believe she was just given lines for no real reason! Drusilla, who was sitting next to her, considered shooting a hateful look in the teacher's direction but realized it would be a big mistake to do so and she turned back, hatefully looking at Mildred instead. Constance was beyond furious. Not only did the useless girl tell her friends about their late night encounter, no. She also shared the story with the whole class, probably acting it out with Enid for them before she came to the lab. In that moment Constance felt humiliated, hated and disrespected. She felt the anger within herself growing strong – not particularly aimed at the girls but more at herself for freaking out like that the night before. Before she would do something she could later regret, she counted to ten in her head, trying to hold back the burning anger.

The last time she had to calm herself like that was fourteen years ago - that was before she started using the Rational Potion. Back then she fully realized her anger issues and learned to somehow control her anger, after a few major accidents when people ended up physically hurt by her untamed powers. Even though everybody said that her magical powers were exceptional and that she was blessed to have them, she never agreed with the statement. Those people did not have to _live_ with the powers, they did not _feel_ the pressure against their chest every time they got irritated, they didn't _understand_ the desperate need to break and damage things, they did not feel the strong desire to destroy everything around them, they didn't have to be afraid of hurting their loved ones. They did not understand, nobody understood. How could they?

At that moment in her potions lab, the witch regretted the decision she had made to stop using the potion. Just then she realized just how much her sanity depended on it, remembered why she started using it in the first place. Constance sat down and opened the potions text book, pretending to be looking for something in it. She turned the pages rather harshly and tried to take deep breaths, inhale in and out, to calm down her racing heart and to repress the dangerous powers that tried to surface. Her fingertips sparkled a little, as if they were trying to hold back the magic on their own as well. In such state, she wasn't able to interact with anybody, not to mention to actually teach a class. Once she felt she had her powers under control (at least for some time), she cleared her throat and came up with something that would occupy the young witches.

"Open you books on page six hundred twenty eight, chapter seven: the midnight herbs. You will rewrite the chapter in your notebooks, along with the illustrations. You can start now."

Enid was the first one to open the book and turned the pages, counting them. "But Miss Hardbroom, the chapter has twenty five pages!" she exclaimed, ignoring her friends' attempts to stop her. Constance glared at the impertinent student.

"That is chapter seven _and _eight for you, Enid Nighshade. Do you feel the need to inform me about the number of pages of chapter eight as well?"

To everyone's surprise Enid actually opened her mouth to reply but then closed it, unable to say a word. It wasn't that she didn't _want_ to answer back to Miss Hardbroom, it was that she was physically unable to do so. She shot an angry look at Jadu, who obviously cast a quick silencing spell on her in order to save her from HB's wrath. For a moment, Constance envied the girls their genuine friendship. When Enid could speak again, she leaned to whisper something to Ruby but the deputy interrupted her before she had the chance to speak.

"Need I remind you that you are to work in silence?!"

No one dared to say another word that morning.

* * *

"Constance, a word - if I may?" Amelia poked her head out of her office some time later, inviting her deputy in. The witch nodded and followed Miss Cackle, closing the doors behind them.

"Is there any problem, Amelia?" she asked, automatically walking to her usual place near the window. She turned to the headmistress and immediately saw that something was troubling her.

"Yes, well…sit down, Constance, sit down please." Constance sat down, raising her eyebrows – a gesture that made the almost invisible lines of wrinkles appear on her forehead. Amelia sat down in her chair opposite her and sighed, shaking her head.

"I had a rather concerned student here this morning. She complained that you were – to put it in her words – highly irritated and gave out a few very unfair assignments. Is that true?"

Mildred Hubble! The brunette knew it had to be Mildred complaining! _Oh, the girl really crossed the line this time!_ Reporting her to the headmistress, now that was inexcusable!

"I don't see, Miss Cackle," she started, using Amelia's last name to show her the professional distance she tried to maintain "how can a pre-pubertal young girl be certified in deciding what is an unfair assignment. As far as I am concerned, every assignment seems unfair to our girls these days."

"So you did not assign them to rewrite thirty pages from a book for no reason?" Amelia asked, sounding hopeful.

"I most certainly didn't. I believe it was _twenty five_ pages – well, forty one for Enid," she crossed her arms and tilted her head back and to the side, her lips forming a thin line. She did not like where this conversation was heading. Amelia had a worried look on her face.

"The girl also mentioned that you seemed incapable of teaching during the potions class."

"The nerve! I hope you do not believe a single word the hopeless girl told you, Amelia. You know what her attitude towards me is!" Constance exclaimed.

"Yes, I do. That is why I find it so very difficult to believe that a girl like Ethel would say something like _that_ about you without having a proper reason."

"Ethel?! Ethel Hallow?" her eyes widened.

"Yes, it was her who came to me this morning, I thought you had figured that out by yourself," Amelia looked as confused as Constance felt.

The younger witch was speechless for a moment, processing the information that it was not Mildred who had talked with Amelia behind her back. She felt a sting of guilt – she had been absolutely positive it was Mildred and she had not even considered anybody else. The truth made her see she had been a bit biased towards the girl, rushing into conclusions too soon. She shouldn't have done that. Amelia watched her employee and leaned closer to her, resting her elbows against the wooden table.

"Constance, you are the most valued member of this staff and the best deputy I have had. You are loyal, hard working and precise, not to mention the only one who is capable of defending this castle and its residents in case of an attack from the wicked witches or any other threat. You are not only my colleague but also my friend – I don't need to be considered yours, but I want you to know that I care about you."

"Please, Amelia, skip the sweet talking and get to the point. I assume you have something to tell me, am I right?"

The headmistress reached for Constance's hand but stopped mid way, clasping her hands together instead. "I cannot afford to lose such a great teacher."

"I am not going anywhere," the deputy replied and suspiciously examined Amelia's eyes.

"Imogen."

"Yes, I am familiar with the name. What has she to do with all this?"

"I have tolerated your mutual hatred for a long time. Seeing what happened yesterday, I cannot tolerate it any longer for yours and Imogen's sake alike. If it continues like this, I will have to let one of you go."

The old witch spoke firmly because she knew that Constance would only listen to authorities. In her heart, however, she wished to take the woman's pale hands into hers and show her that she cared about her – heck, she cared about Constance as if she was the daughter she had never had. She saw the confident look on the other woman's face. There was only one way she could make the witch change something about the situation: show her that being powerful did not make Constance Hardbroom the one in charge.

"Everything I do, I do in the best interest of the girls. I need teachers who are capable of teaching and cooperating. You must remember Constance, that while you are a valued member of my staff, you are not irreplaceable."

Not once before had Miss Cackle said something like that to Miss Hardbroom. She had never threatened to fire her before. Of course, Miss Hardbroom had never been so emotionally unstable before. For the second time that day, she wished she could take a sip from her Rational Potion. Without the liquid, everything seemed to fall apart.

"I see," she said and stood up to leave. There was no point in sticking around where she was not wanted.

"Wait," Amelia stopped her. "I am not firing you, Constance. Please, sit down."

"No, Amelia. I understand what you are trying to say," she said, walking to the doors.

"Constance Hardbroom! You go back this instant, sit down and you listen to me!"

The dangerous voice Amelia used surprised the witch and made her stop. She focused her gaze at the door-frame, feeling the magic inside her intensify. The pressure against her chest made her gasp and she closed her eyes shut, glad that she had her back turned to the other witch.

_Control it, Constance._

"Is something wrong?" Amelia inquired since her employee was quiet for some time, staring at the doorframe. The headmistress couldn't see her face but felt that something was not right.

"No, nothing's wrong."

"Please, do not act like this. I do not want you to resign just to punish yourself for what happened yesterday."

"I am not," she protested, clenching her fists and digging her long, sharp nails painfully in the palms of her hands. She needed the pain to distract herself from the overtaking need to destroy half of the office. Amelia was quiet for a moment and then came closer to her. She wanted to put her hand on Constance's shoulder but something stopped her. It felt strange, as if something tried to warn her that the gesture could be potentially dangerous.

"Davina and I are taking the first and second year to see the Weirdsister College tomorrow. Imogen and you will be left here with the third and the fourth year. Both years are working on their individual semester projects, therefore you do not have to teach any classes for the next days. We will be back on Friday – till then I suggest you sort out whatever is going on between you two."

All the witch could do was nod. She needed to be alone and she would agree to anything just to be able to leave.

"Alright then. Thank you for hearing me out."

Without another word, Constance rushed out of the headmistress's office. Once outside, she hissed with pain and frustration, unsure of her feelings. She was upset, confused, irritated and even though she refused to admit it, she was scared. Cackle's was her home, if she had to leave, where would she go? What would she do? She couldn't imagine not living at Cackle's. She had to do something about the situation, it was getting out of her control and she did not like that at all. There were two possibilities: she could go and talk to Imogen, find out why they couldn't get along (the fact that she disliked the teacher was simply not enough) and try to control her emotions while doing so, hoping she wouldn't accidentally kill the blonde (which under the circumstances wasn't _that_ unlikely). Or she could go to the woods, gather some Solmon Seal Roots and magically dry them to have all the ingredients to make a Ration Potion that would help her decide what to do next and would control her powers. Magically drying the roots would not be as effective as the traditional way, but it would have to do.

Constance decided for the latter. She would go to the woods that night and gather some herbs, mix them together and get rid of all those chaotic emotions and uncontrollable powers.

When she unclenched her fists small streaks of warm blood run down her fingers.


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: Sorry for the delay, I've been busy participating in international projects and breaking fingers (mine). FINALLY we're getting some Imogen/HB action here! Whee! I apologize for the grammar, my brain refuses to speak proper English lately. Oi, and I love HB's quote I used for this chapter :D. *hugs everybody* Happy reading! Everyone who reviews gets a cookie in a shape of a witch hat! *is bribing*_

* * *

**Chapter 12: I Hope It's Not Some Disgusting Romance (I Am Pleased)**

Imogen Drill was bored. Completely and utterly bored.

The nurse had told her to stay in bed so she in order to properly recover from her injury. However, Imogen did not feel any pain at all and the hours she was spending in bed seemed like a waste of time to her. Usually around that time in the afternoon, she would be taking a walk around the woods after dinner. She wouldn't run because running after you had eaten is not healthy and she wanted to keep fit. Taking a stroll, on the other hand, would make it easier for her to digest the nutritious dinner (as Miss Hardbroom used to call it; Imogen agreed more with Griselda's '_Revenge of the castle_' name) and she would have some time to reflect on her day. She would think about the arguments with Miss Hardbroom (every day, there was a new one), the possible hidden agenda of the witch, the reasons why Miss Hardbroom was so rude, the color of Miss Hardbroom's dress…well, Imogen did not want to admit it but when walking around the lake and reflecting on her day, her thoughts sometimes involved Constance Hardbroom.

And in her case, 'sometimes' was the code name for 'always'. But that afternoon was not a usual afternoon and she wasn't taking her stroll. She was lying in her bed, bored out of her mind. After a few more minutes of excruciating boredom, the PE teacher decided to fetch herself a glass of water. There was nothing wrong with that - was there? She would just get up from the bed, walk to the kitchen and drink a glass of water. Simple as that. After satisfying her thirst she would go right back to bed and be a good patient for Doctor Cell. That was the plan.

Fifty three minutes later, when Imogen found herself pressed against the tree cortex of an old willow in the woods with Constance's breath hot against her neck, she realized that sometimes life doesn't go according to the plan.

///

The day went really slow for Constance. She left Amelia's office at two o'clock and she had to somehow occupy herself for five hours before going to the woods to gather the herbs she needed for her potion (the instructions clearly stated that the herbs have to be collected at night). Focusing on the premise that everything would be alright once she drinks the magical elixir, she decided to follow her daily routine as she would any other day. The magic within her seemed to calm down for as long as she did not think about the earlier conversation with Amelia or anything even remotely connected to Imogen.

The witch spent her time organizing the bottles in the potions lab, rearranging the books in the library so they would be in alphabetical order, adding a few footnotes to her _'Tradition, tradition, tradition_' speech she would give in four months at the Witch Education Conference (a continuation of her last year's successful speech '_Standards, standards, standards_') and even polished her tight black leather boots. By the time she was done, the sun was replaced by the moon and it was the time to go and look for the Solmon's Root in the woods. Constnance neatly put her boots away, folded the cotton cloth and put it away as well.

She would go the woods, search the areas around the lake for the herbs she needed, return to the castle, make her potion and drink it. After that, every decision would be easier, she would control the magic inside her and most of all she would be able to control the chaotic emotions that had been disturbing her all day long.

Seventy three minutes later she would reflect back at her planned evening and realize that pinning Imogen Drill to a tree and inhaling her intoxicating scent was not a part of the plan.

///

The castle of Cackle's Academy was not always the coziest place to be. Living in the cold castle, runny noses and cold feet had to become a part of everyone's lives. Imogen Drill was no exception. And also as everyone else she had to find a way how to deal with the unwelcoming environment she spent most of her year living in. For her, it was running. Running helped her clear her mind, it warmed her up and kept her fit. That is why when she was in the kitchen pouring herself a glass of water and looked outside the window, the road leading into the forest seemed so attractive. In a way, running was her drug and she was indeed addicted. She fidgeted with the glass and restlessly tapped her foot. The road was illuminated by the moon, covered with leaves and broken twigs and the weather seemed just perfect for night running.

"Ten minutes of running never killed anybody," Imogen said to herself and quietly crept into her room to put her jogging wear on.

She knew she shouldn't have gone running alone when she was injured but the fact that she felt no pain whatsoever convinced her that there was no way it could harm her. She needed to think about what happened the last few days anyway and she couldn't properly focus on anything in bed where all she could think about was how bored she was. Inhaling the scent of the wet leaves, feeling the wind on her skin and enjoying the sensation of her body slowly warming up, she made her way to the lake where she stopped to rest for a few moments before going back to the castle. Before she could even catch her breath again, she noticed movement a few meters from her. Cautiously, she approached the dark trees, suspicious of why would anybody be in the forest at that time.

Suddenly a person emerged from the darkness and the pale face that was so familiar to Imogen was illuminated by the soft light of the moon.

"Goodness, Miss Hardbroom, you scared me!"

Constance seemed surprised by the unexpected meeting and blinked a few times before reacting, trying to think of a reason why would her colleague be standing by the lake in the middle of the night. She noticed Imogen's red cheeks and irregular breathing and it led her to believe the woman had been running. The witch hid the newly gathered Solon Root behind her back as if she was worried the blonde would know what they were for.

"I was under the impression that patients should be in bed and not wander about the forest at night," Constance said, disapproving of such a foolish behavior and trying to distract Imogen from asking what _she _was doing there.

"I needed fresh air, that's all."

"Disobeying the orders from your doctor hardly sets a good example for the girls."

"Just drop it, alright? I am not in the mood to fight right now," Imogen sighed, ready to leave.

"In that case I suggest you go back to the castle immediately before any of the girls see you, Miss Drill." The bossy tone woke up Imogen's rebellious spirit.

"You don't tell me what to do! I know how to take care of myself!" she snapped back.

"These circumstances say otherwise!" the witch hissed. Constance's scornful attitude hurt Imogen and made her furious. How dare the witch tell her what to do? Who does she think she is?! Finally she dared to express the thought that had been on her mind for a long time.

"Really, why do you hate me so much?"

The brunette's eyebrows shot up resulting in the appearance of horizontal wrinkles across her forehead and her mouth opened for a moment, expressing a genuine surprise. Immediately she brought her lips together and cleared her throat, hoping that the sound would mask the loud, rapid beating of her heart. Before she had the chance to answer, her eyes locked with Imogen's and the hurt in the younger woman's beautiful eyes made her speechless. Deep brown met with the energized dark green and both women felt something powerful in the connection, something that scared even the most powerful witch at the Academy. The moment between them reminded the PE teacher of a similar situation from not that long ago. The image of surprised Constance dropping a gun flashed before her eyes and she gasped for air as a sudden jolt of pain shot through her entire body. Her body felt as if it was on fire, the sharp pain making her scream out loud, her body trembling as she slowly fell down onto her knees, feeling the wet leaves on her exposed skin. Every movement caused a new wave of pain, every breath made her scream in pain. She struggled to breathe and to keep conscious, even though she wished she would just faint and it would all be over. The pain seemed to origin in her abdomen and she hugged herself, digging her nails into her back. Just then she realized what Doctor Cell meant by the 'unexpected pain' she had told her about. She could feel the bullet piercing her skin again and again and again…

Constance watched Imogen with confusion and desperation. She knew she was supposed to do something but she had no idea how to help the suffering woman. She had to end Imogen's agonizing pain somehow because watching her was tearing her own heart apart. She came closer to her colleague and tentatively put a hand on her back in an attempt to comfort her. Constance was not good with comforting people, let alone people who were obviously in pain but at least she tried.

To her surprise, Imogen made a swift movement and shove her hand away.

"Don't touch me!" she shouted with tears in her eyes. "Don't look at me – just STOP IT!"

"I am only trying to…"

"STOP IT! Stop LOOKING at me with those eyes, stop TOUCHING me! Stop TALKING me! You HATE ME so just go away, GET OUT of my way and of my LIFE! Get out of my HEAD, GODDAMMIT!"

She continued to shout at the witch, trying to ease the physical pain by shouting it all out. At that moment, she blamed the brunette for everything – for the pain she was experiencing, for the way she always felt hated, for being constantly on her mind. Constance Hardbroom was, not for the first or last time that night, speechless. She did not expect such an outburst and with no potion that would help her to conclude a logical explanation of Imogen's behavior, she started to panic. She hadn't felt that emotion since the last visit of Heckitty Broomhead.

As suddenly as Imogen's pain came, it went away. Her body stopped trembling and only her heavy breathing suggested what she had just been through. Slowly, she stood up.

"Are you alright?"

"And why are you concerned? Stop pretending to care, it's pathetic," she said rather harshly and turned away to leave. The painful experience exhausted her, made her feel embarrassed that she seemed so weak in Miss Hardbroom's eyes and left her confused by what just happened. All she wanted to do was leave as quickly as possible.

"I do care," the witch shot back, surprised by her own words. It was true though, she did care about the stubborn blonde. However, she did not think she would ever voice that sentiment.

"Oh please! I don't need your pity now, Miss Hardbroom."

"You cannot go back alone, I will go with you."

"I don't want you to. Go your own way."

The magic within the witch was awoken with every harsh word the other teacher uttered. It seemed that it was connected to the emotional stress Constance was going through and it slowly build up the need to destroy. The magic wanted to be expressed, it needed to be released in some way. Constance was aware of this and clenched her fists so her fingers wouldn't do magic on their own.

"I didn't ask if you _wanted_ me to go, I said I would."

"Screw you," the younger woman rolled her eyes and turned to go away. Constance grabbed her by the arm and firmly held her in place. The blonde struggled to get away but she didn't ease the grip, she didn't let her get away. There would be fingerprints bruises on the arm the next morning.

"Let me go," Imogen growled dangerously through clenched teeth.

"You are going with me whether you like or not. It's for your own good, Miss Drill. I cannot let you go back alone – you could experience another seizure and if anything happened to you, I would be the one responsible for it. Considering what happened the last few days between us, I believe that me being the last person to see you before you die would be a little suspicious. "

The witch was too used getting her way in everything. She knew what was the best for Imogen and she wouldn't back away just because the stubborn teacher didn't agree with her opinion. The captured woman tried to set herself free of Constance's grip and placed her other hand on the brunette's wrist in an attempt to shove it off.

"Stop it or I won't be able to control myself…" Constance warned her, feeling that she wouldn't be able to hold the magic back any longer.

"Oh, what will you do? Shoot me? Been there, done that, huh?!" Imogen snapped at her in a spiteful tone of voice. She didn't really mean it but she was so furious that the words were leaving her mouth on their own accord.

The words hurt the older woman. Tears appeared in her eyes and in an instant, she felt no longer capable of holding the magic back. With terror she realized that the magic would hurt Imogen, it would force Constance to throw the non-witch against the nearest tree in an uncontrolled explosion of magic. She would hurt her. It had happened before, many many years ago, and even now she felt the same helplessness as she did back then. The witch lost control of the ancient magic within her. She moved forward and – as the predicted – threw Imogen against an old willow behind her. However, the rest of her prediction was wrong. Instead of physically hurting the attractive blonde, she expressed the magic in a _very_ different way.

She kissed her.

Constance's passion was tied to her anger and the omnipotent magic decided to free itself in a way the witch desperately craved but never fully realized. Of course, there were hints: the way the young woman was always on her mind, the way she made her feel things – ranging from anger to curiosity, the fact that she found herself watching her closely every time she had the chance… she knew there was something going on between them. The connection was there. But never ever would Constance Hardbroom admit she was attracted to Imogen. Not even to herself. Until now, when her right hand was pinning the blonde's wrist against her chest and pressing her back to the tree, with her own body pressed not-so-gently against her. She was kissing her with all the passion that had been bottled up inside her for years, left hand resting on Imogen's cheek.

The young woman was stunned, to say the least. Imogen's initial thought was to push the witch away but her lips were so soft and so demanding, so magical and oh, it felt so good that she couldn't bring herself to do it. She let out a muffled moan, melting against the magical woman and surrendering completely.

For a brief moment there was no past or future, there was just that moment in the woods. Constance let her guard down and acted on impulse, something so unheard of that the people around her were convinced was impossible. After a few more passionate kisses, their lips parted and the witch rested her forehead against the cortex, her breath heavy and hot against Imogen's neck. She took a deep breath, enjoying the mixture of Imogen's scent with the nature around them. It was intoxicating, making her feel hot and aroused. The kisses, the connection, the intensity of the moment, the magic – they all made her feel alive.

Surprisingly, the magic seemed satisfied with this non-violent outburst and Constance felt in control again. Unfortunately, being in control meant to realize the consequences of her actions and thinking about all the reasons why what she had done was wrong and stupid. She let go of Imogen and took a few steps back, avoiding her colleague's eyes. Had she looked up, she would see the hope in the green eyes, the silent question asking her what did the kiss mean.

Constance was not able to deal with the situation at that moment so she turned back and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Imogen by the lake alone.


	13. Chapter 13

_**AN:** Finals for this year are over and I have two months of free time. And that means MORE FANFICS YES. Btw, there is this RPG going on in the WW forum over here so go and check it out. Me and my sistas are cool to play with. ~ nudges ~ Go, go! Alright now in this chapter: an actual plot! Still lots of Imogen/HB plot but I am putting in an actual Worst Witch plot as well because just because there is this epic teacher love going on, doesn't mean Mildred won't get into trouble, Fenny and Gris won't be causing mischief and Ethel won't be trying to get Millie expelled! Everything is still happening only we (you!) are getting to know it only now...little by little.:) Thank you for all the nice comments and enjoy! _

**Chapter 13: I Always Thought You Hated Me**

The next day Imogen decided to talk to Miss Hardbroom about the events of the previous night. It took her all night to decide to actually _talk_ to the witch for various reasons: first, she was scared how Constance would react. She was known for being stubborn and not very understanding of emotions so to actually talk to her about why they had kissed would be indeed hard. Second, Imogen wasn't sure she _wanted _to talk about it – maybe if they didn't talk about it, they could pretend it hadn't happen. But she was too curious and needed to find out her colleague's reasons and so she decided that talking was the only way to solve the mystery.

In addition to that she secretly hoped that Constance wasn't as heartless and cold as she appeared to be to everyone. She hoped that maybe there was a genuine emotion expressed in that kiss and that flattered Imogen.

Around ten, she went outside the castle where the first and second years were preparing to leave for a two days trip to Weirdsister College. The young witches prepared their brooms, put cats in their baskets and talked excitingly about who is going to room with whom. The weather was much better than the day before and the air was filled with the smell of dried leaves. The sun was shining but it wasn't too hot – a perfect day for flying, Amelia told her after asking endless questions about her health. What worried Imogen more than her health was that she couldn't find Constance all morning – the witch wasn't in her room, didn't come to Morning Notices, didn't come to breakfast nor was she there to watch the young witches leave (and to shout at them for not sitting at their broom in a proper way).

"Have you seen Miss Hardbroom today?" she finally asked, trying to sound casual. Amelia opened her mouth to reply but was distracted by Zillah Sparkcle who tried to magically make her cat stay in the basket but blew the basket up instead. The headmistress went to see if the cat was alright, scolded the girl for using magic without knowing the spell properly and then turned back to her employee.

"What was it that you wanted? Ah, you are looking for Miss Hardbroom, correct?"

"Yes, I haven't seen her all morning and I am wondering where she is since I want to discuss who is going to do lights out tonight with her," she lied.

"Constance was in my office early this morning and asked for a few days off. I was very surprised since she hasn't asked for days off for years now and that was exactly the reason why I couldn't refuse her request, I am sure you understand that."

"Did she say where she was going? Do you know when is she planning to return?" Imogen was startled. Not because she would be looking after the girls alone but because the thought of not seeing Constance for a few days upset her. She felt it was her fault that the witch decided to leave the castle for some time. She felt awful for that.

"No, she didn't say where she was going. I admit, I was equally curious about where she would go but it wasn't my place to ask that. I doubt she would tell me anyway," Amelia put her hand on Imogen's shoulder.

"I already told Constance that you two have to talk it out, all the tension between you. I cannot have you two arguing all the time and I don't want to let any of you go. I think she needs to think it through and then she might want to talk to you. Constance is a very intelligent woman but sometimes we have to bear in mind that it is not easy for her to get on with people. Please, Imogen, try to get on with her. Our school needs her. I need both of you."

The PE teacher looked away for a moment and then back at the headmistress. She understood what was asked of her: to get on with Constance better and to be less argumentative when talking to her. It was logical that Amelia wanted them to get along, after all, the shooting accident must have made the headmistress realize just how serious their tension was and the terrible consequences it could have.

"I will try my best. It's not easy, you know," she said with a weak smile. She thought of how much she wanted to get on with Constance but the woman was _impossible_.

"I know, Imogen, I know," Amelia sighed and stroked her arm in that strange, motherly way. Shortly after their little chat the headmistress ordered the students to get on their brooms and be ready for departure. As they flew away, Henrietta and Petronela waved to Imogen from the sky but she didn't wave back. The teacher was lost in her thoughts, wondering what to do next. The girls didn't mind and in a few moments, they were no longer to be seen in the distance.

/

"Why am I not surprised to find you two being somewhere you shouldn't be just a few minutes after Miss Cackle's gone?" Miss Drill stood in the doorway to Staff Room, leaning against the doorframe and looking at Mildred and Enid who had their backs turned to her. Slowly, they turned to look at her, guilty expression smudged all over their faces.

"Hello, Miss Drill," Enid said, trying to sound as if the teacher didn't just found them looking around in the staff room.

"Hello, Miss Nightshade," Imogen replied, not amused by their behavior. "Can you kindly tell me what are you two doing here?"

"We are…uhm, looking for…" Mildred started, obviously trying to come up with something.

"Miss Hardbroom! We are looking for Miss Hardbroom!" Enid interrupted her.

"I was under the impression that the two of you would rather avoid Miss Hardbroom than trying to find her. Isn't that right, Mildred?"

"Yes, well, that is true. But we have lines to hand in to her and we thought she might be here. But she isn't so we better go now."

The girls started to walk away but Imogen did not intend to let them off the hook so easily. She wasn't mad at them for being in the Staff Room (even though the room was off-limits for pupils) but she suspected something was going on behind her back. She had to find out what.

"Wait, wait, wait. What exactly is going on here?" she asked and sniffed, smelling something weird in the air. "And why on earth can I smell fish?" The girls exchanged worried glances and shrugged. The PE teacher waited for an answer but since it was clear she wouldn't get any, she gave up. She wasn't in the mood to question the duo. "Alright, you can go. But keep in mind that you did not fool me. I will find out what is going on eventually," she eyed them and when they were almost at the end of the hallway, she added "And tell me once you find Miss Hardbroom, I am looking for her as well."

"Yes, Miss," they said in unison. If Miss Drill wasn't so focused on Miss Hardbroom's whereabouts, she might have noticed the fish in Enid's hand and that Mildred's dress was burned at the ends. Of course, she did not notice that, closed the door behind her and sat in her favorite chair, thinking.

Imogen thought about the previous night and what exactly it meant. They kissed. Not in that 'I tripped and fell right onto your lips' kind of way but in the proper 'I want you' way. Neither of them fought it. Both of them obviously wanted it. Imogen was taken aback by the kiss, Constance seemed to fear it. Those were the fact and she would have to take them into the consideration when pondering on what the kiss actually meant for her. It scared the young woman just how natural it felt to her, as if there was nothing wrong with kissing the witch. That, however, was not true. She could think of million reasons why it was wrong and stupid and foolish…and yet, it felt so right. Her heart beat faster just thinking of the demanding lips on hers, the soft hand on her cheeks and the hot breath against her skin.

"Oh no. Shit, no," she said out loud, realizing what she had felt for a long time. Being able to finally put a label on her feelings was a success, even though the outcome irritated her. _That's just great Imogen. Out of six billion people, you have to fall in love with the most unreachable one._ "That is so me," she sighed and leaned back into the chair, closing her eyes.

"This is not happening," she said to the empty room.

/

Mildred and Enid, the two students who had just left the staffroom, walked a few more steps before saying anything. Then, sure that Miss Drill couldn't hear them, Mildred panicked: "She knows. Oh, Enid, I am sure she suspects something! What if she finds Connie? It'll be a disaster. They will kick us out – well, not you, just me. It's all my fault. They will send me home and what will I say to my parents? That –"

"Shut up, Millie," Enid shushed her and grabbed her by her shoulders. "Listen to me: no one is going to expel you, alright? Miss Drill has no idea Connie's running around and since we – who are looking for her – haven't found her so far, there is little chance that she will."

"But what if—"

"Millie!"

"Alright, I believe you," Mildred nodded and desperately growled. "We have to tell Fenella. She will know what to do." Her friend agreed with the idea and they set out to find their older friend to tell her the terrible news.

Mildred Hubble lost Fenella Feverfew's baby dragon.

/

The most difficult decision of that day was who is going to tell Fenella. Of course, Mildred knew that it should be her who explains the situation to the intelligent fourth grader but all the way from Staff Room to the library (where they assumed Fenny and Griz would be), she tried to talk Enid into doing it. She was scared of Fenella's reaction – after all, she promised to take care of the little dragon and she failed. She should have expected something to go wrong – nothing can ever work out perfectly in her life, especially not when it's something she _shouldn't_ be doing.

And keeping a baby dragon in her room was definitely on the_ 'not to do_' list.

"It's not like she has anything to blame you for," Enid tried to calm Mildred down. "It was her who wanted you to look after Connie so HB wouldn't find her. You did not come up to her one day and say: 'Hey, don't you have a possibly dangerous magic creature I could take care of this week?'." Mildred was nervously biting her lower lip, a habit she had formed at Cackle's (Maud always said it was an HB-trauma of some sort).

"Still, I feel responsible. I don't know how it could happen. I am sure I had closed the window before I left for classes."

"Maybe it's Ethel's work. She might have overheard you talking about Connie yesterday during Potions when you showed me what she had done to your arm," her friend suggested, opening the doors to the library.

"Maybe," the worst witch agreed. "Here we go," she mumbled under her breath and waved at the infamous witch duo that was sitting in the corner of the room, huge books open in their laps. They immediately grinned and closed the books. A small break from all the studying for their finals was very welcomed.

"Hey!" the blonde greeted them with a typical mischievous smile on her lips. "Mildred, Enid! Our favorite little girls," added Fenny.

"They grew up too fast," Griselda pretended to tear up a little but then laughed and poked Enid in her side.

"We have to tell you something," Mildred said in a small voice "Connie's gone missing." The smiles from their faces were wiped away, concerned look replacing them immediately. Fenella folded her arms.

"What do you mean 'missing'? How can a dragon go 'missing' in a castle full of people? And why did you even let her out of your room, Millie?"

"I am sorry, I am so so so sorry! I didn't mean to, I-I think someone had to open the window in my room while I was gone and she must have flown out of it. I tried to find her and I almost got her in the staff room but Enid and I were too slow and she flew away," the desperate young witch tried to explain. The green baby dragon was no bigger than a big cat so catching her was not as easy as they thought. Just as Fenella wanted to respond, Miss Drill entered the library and the girls stopped talking, knowing that the word 'dragon' was not to be uttered in her presence. She looked around the room, looking for someone. When she saw them, she rushed to talk to them.

"Fenella, Griselda, can I talk to you for a minute? In private?"

That was never a good thing. Both girls went pale and slowly nodded, following Miss Drill out of the library, leaving confused Mildred and Enid behind.

/

Imogen looked at her two students and once again re-considered what she was about to do. She knew she shouldn't ask the witches to help her in a way that they would disobey the school rules about using magic for their own good but it was the only way she could achieve what she wanted: find Constance. From the moment in the Staff Room when she realized that she indeed cared about the stubborn witch, Imogen felt the unbearable urge to talk to her and to find out what yesterday night meant for them – if there even was something she could call 'them'. Beside all that, she was also worried. It was very irrational to worry about HB because the witch was the last person on earth that would be unable to defend herself in any situation but Imogen felt like she wanted to protect Constance from something. Maybe she saw that the older woman had one enemy she could never defeat: herself.

From all the people, Imogen Drill was the only person who was that Constance Hardbroom was her own enemy.

The PE teacher explained to the pupils that she needed to find someone – not specifying who – and asked whether there was some spell that could help her do that. By the looks the girls exchanged, she knew they were thinking whether it would be a wise thing to share with her. After all, half of the spells Fenella and Griselda mastered were forbidden at the Academy.

"Please, girls, it is really important for me that I find this person," Imogen almost pleaded.

"There isn't a spell for that, Miss," Griz said, upsetting the teacher.

"But there is a potion," Fenella added with a victorious smile.

Miss Drill thanked them and listened to the instructions how to make the potion. It turned out that it was a pretty simple recipe, the only thing that would be a bit complicated was how to add something 'personal' to the mix. Fenella explained that something personal of the person she was looking for was needed – a hairbrush, a ring or a photo – anything she could hold in her hand when drinking the potion. Then Imogen it would transport her to the person the item belonged to. It all made sense, Imogen thought. Sometimes magic surprised her but something it was very logical and surprisingly simple.

"But it's not exactly according to the witch code," she was told. "We could get in trouble for telling you about the potion…"

"Don't worry, it will stay our little secret. No one needs to know," Imogen reassured her skillful students, thanked them again and let them go their own way. She wrote down the instructions for the potion and then put her pen down, staring at the paper.

A sudden realization hit her: she was going to make her very first potion. Ever. It scared her, yet at the same time it was exciting. She always admired how the witches could do magic: spells and all that abracadabra that went with it and only now she realized that to make a magic potion, one didn't need to necessarily be a witch. Anyone with the knowledge of the recipe could do it. That made her think of Constance and she let herself wonder for a moment about why the witch chose to be a potions teacher. She seemed to like mixing the herbs and creating new mixtures, new potions and combine the known recipes just to see what it does. It must have been really exciting to observe how some herbs and leaves behave in the combination with different ones, Imogen thought. Her high school interest in Chemistry was coming back to her. But why would such a powerful witch chose a profession that didn't even require magic? It would make more sense if Constance taught spells, for example.

Imogen decided to ask the potions mistress at some point about it, curious about the witch's past and what led her to the decision to teach potions. With that thought in her mind, she set off to the Potions Laboratory.

/

Making the potion was as easy as one, two, three. Imogen wondered why on earth the students always complain about potions when it was actually fun: when she threw the frog legs in, the liquid changed color, when she mixed it with some sunflower seeds, it puffed smoke and when she heated the cauldron up, the whole potion boiled and change into dark red, looking dangerous. The teacher was satisfied with herself. That was until she looked at the paper with instructions and read: _the potion should have a dark green color – any other color indicates a wrong dose of the required ingredients._ She pouted and sighed.

"Now I know why they hate it," she said to herself three hours later, when she was re-doing the potion for the fourth time.

When it (finally) turned out right, Imogen realized it was almost three o'clock in the afternoon. The girls had already had lunch and she saw a few fourth graders in the courtyard, amusing themselves with changing each other into animals or practicing their spells. There were two girls chasing each other on their brooms. Somehow, she didn't think it was wise to leave them play with magic so she left the potion on the table and went to shout at them for being irresponsible and using magic without her permission.

"We apologize, Miss Drill. It is just that we're so bored," Jadu told her and changed Ruby from a duck back into a girl.

"That was extreme!" Ruby giggled but seeing that Miss Drill was not amused, she did not elaborate on how it felt to be a duck.

"Girls, promise me to behave responsibly."

"Promise!" Jadu beamed, really happy that Miss Drill had obviously a lot of work so she did not stop to give them any lines. They watched Miss Drill disappear into the castle and a few moments later, Jadu Vali was turned into a mouse.

That was how it always went when Miss Hardbroom was not around.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: She Only Did What Any Other Girl Would Have Done**

_Something personal from Miss Hardbroom, _Imogen thought. _Now that would be tricky_.

Constance was the least opened person so to find something she could use with the potion was not easy. The blonde had no other choice but to go to the witch's chamber and to secretly look around. There was the possibility that she would be discovered if the woman who lived there would come but then again, finding her was the whole point of it so that would turn out to actually be a good thing. Of course she was well aware just how mad Constance will be once she finds out her privacy had been invaded but in that moment, Imogen couldn't care less. And for some really strange reason, the thought of shouting Constance calmed her down, as if it was a speechless witch that scared her more. When entering the chamber of Miss Hardbroom she felt like a student again, sneaking up to places she shouldn't enter. It was thrilling and small drops of sweat appeared on the back of her neck. It surprised her that the doors were not locked – she thought that the potion teacher would be hiding something in her room from the prying eyes of the pupils. However Imogen was very disappointed when she saw the room was no different to her own. Yes, well, Constance's room _was_ exceptionally clean and tidy, almost as if no one really inhabited it. The only trace of someone living there was an open closet, obviously full of clothes. But other than that, it was a room like any other.

Imogen looked around, feeling foolish for checking if no one was watching her, as she approached the closet and looked inside. For a second she wondered about how it was possible that Constance had so many dresses. Just how many different black dresses can one person have? _Obviously, more than fifteen_, she counted. It smelled very familiar in the closet – lavender and cherries with a special essence that was uniquely Constance. Imogen drew a deep breath, enjoying the way it made her feel: calm, satisfied, happy. With a smile on her lips she looked around in the closet, looking for something she could use to locate the witch. Her eyes rested on a box in the corner of the closet and she knelt down to open it. _Alright, so I am really invading Constance's privacy now_, she thought, _she is going to kill me._ But she opened the box anyway as if the realization held no significance. She found old notebooks inside and a stash of letters. Deciding that reading the letters would be too much (and being ashamed of even thinking about it) Imogen put them away and took an old notebook in her hand that had the name Constance Hardbroom written on it in a neat handwriting. The PE mistress opened the journal to find out whether it was a diary of some sort but was disappointed when she found out it only hold recepies to potions. When she was about to close it and take it to the potions lab (that was as personal as it could get), something fell out of it.

Imogen drew her eyebrows together in sheer surprise when she saw a photo of two young girls had fallen out of the notebook. The dark haired one was smiling and seemed awfully familiar while the other one had light chestnut hair and sort of a winning smile on her lips. It was a black and white photo and she guess the familiar looking girl must have been a young Constance. She turned the photo to the blank side and read the tiny handwriting in the corner: _A proof that Constance Hardbroom is able of joy. *heart* Elizabeth_.

It felt so exciting to hold something that was obviously very dear to Constance in her hand that Imogen noticed her hand was involuntarily trembling. Suddenly a wave of heat overcame her and she had to take a deep breath to calm down. For some reason she felt embarrassed for snooping around like that and quickly put the letters and the journals back in the box, returning it back to its place in the corner of the closet. She stood up from the floor and rushed to the potions lab, aching to find Constance as soon as possible.

/

"Girls, girls, a word?" the PE teacher waved at Fenella and Griselda who were talking to some first years in the hallway, possibly informing them of their next prank.

"Miss Drill, hello," Griselda smiled.

"You two want to have your own witch school one day, is that correct?" Miss Drill asked straight away after she took them aside to talk. The girls exchanged curious glances and nodded. "Well, I have a great opportunity for you to try it out for real for an hour or so. Miss Hardbroom took a day off and I need to take care of some business myself. I don't think leaving the girls with no supervision would be wise so...could you watch over your schoolmates while I am gone?"

Griselda and Fenella were stunned. "Yes, no problem, Miss!" Fenella nodded while Griselda was grinning like cat next to her.

"No problem for you," Miss Drill sighed for herself. A little louder she added: "And no magic while I am not here. Understood?" The fourth graders nodded again but Imogen could see that their minds were already occupied with all they could do while without any supervision. 

_The talk with Constance better be worth all this risk_, she thought a few minutes later when she clenched the photo in her hand and took a sip from the green potion she had made.

/

Two curious eyes watched as Miss Drill suddenly disappeared and an emerald colored dragon head popped from under the table. Connie, a British grayling, looked around the potions lab to find something to drink. The little dragon was unbelievably thirsty and tired from being chased around by two girls – neither of them her mistress. With one swift move, the magical creature jumped at the teacher's desk and looked around, its eyes resting on a potion bottle that had some liquid inside. Connie let out a joyful sound and took two small steps back, its long tail bumping into the cupboard behind her. It run towards the end of the desk and jumped at the end, aiming at the shelf with the watery potion and in a few moments, the liquid was all over the floor.

Connie had a satisfied expression on her face until she licked the potion from the ground, realizing it tasted awful and not like water at all. Disappointed, she flew out of the window to find herself something else to drink.

/

The witch was dressed in her usual traveling dress, black from head to toe, made from a textile light enough for her skin to breathe. She was sitting on the ground, little bugs occasionally tickling her exposed feet. Her boots were neatly put next to her, the bootlaces tied even though she was not wearing them. The grass was soft against her skin and she enjoyed the soft breeze chilling her face. The silence of the cemetery was exactly what she needed in order to think clearly. In front of her was a white marble headstone with the name _Elizabeth Blueshine _written on it and a single red rose. The rose was from Constance - she always brought roses because they were Elizabeth's favorite. She came to her dead lover's grave only once a year, every year the same day. _That_ day. It was not the anniversary of Elizabeth's death but of the day they first met because that was what Constance wanted to remember. She wanted to remember the nice moments, not the ones that made her heart break again and again. That was why the Rational Potion she had mixed last night was still intact. Had she drank it, she would not be able to remember Elizabeth clearly and on that special day it would not be fair towards the woman. No matter how confused and unstable it made her, Constance refused to forget. Not on that special day.

Staring at the headstone and toying with a green bottle in her hands, she felt a wave of magic somewhere near. It was an ability all witches had the potential of achieving but only few really did. To feel approaching magic was always an advantage in combat because then the person could be more aware of their surroundings and prepared to defend themselves. That is why Mistress Broomhead insisted she develops the ability and Constance had no other choice but to master it. As she predicted, someone magically appeared behind her. The witch sensed who it was and she closed her eyes, Imogen Drill being the last person she wanted to talk at that moment.

And the only person as well.

"Fancy meeting you here," Constance spoke in a harsh tone, breaking the silence that followed Imogen's arrival.

The PE teacher herself was surprised at the loss of words. When she had been making the potion earlier, she prepared what exactly she was going to say to the older woman and yet, now, all the words seemed to leave her. Imogen just stood there, a photo still in her hand, surprised at the unexpected equability of the witch. A few moment ago she was ready to shout at her for leaving her after the kiss just like that and now she could do nothing more but stand there, stunned at the sadness that emanated from Constance.

"I wanted to talk to you," she confessed and carefully approached the sitting witch.

"See, we can pick up our first fight right there, Miss Drill, because I am quite certain I did not – and still do not, I dare to add – want to talk to you."

"I don't want to fight," Imogen sighed and sat next to Constance, thinking about how such gesture could invade her personal space. Reflecting back at her earlier adventures in the potions mistress' closet, the blonde decided that it did not matter anymore.

"Another matter where I cannot help it but disagree with you, Miss Drill." She did not intend to open to the younger colleague in any way. That irritated Imogen.

"Are you going to add my surname to every sentence you speak to from now on? Is that how you try to detach yourself from what happened last night?"

"Of course not, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it, _Miss Drill_?" Constance stared at the headstone, pretending to ignore the other woman's presence.

"Stop it," Imogen growled and grabbed Constance by her shoulder, forcing her to turn to her. The witch looked at her with genuine surprise – she did not expect such a rough touch. People usually did not touch her, she simply was not the huggable type, and to feel the fingers dig in her skin was truly unexpected. The touch tore her cold mask apart and Imogen saw emotion reflect in the chocolate eyes. Oh, how she wanted to kiss her right there.

"Don't touch me," Constance hissed but did not move away. Imogen wasn't sure what to make out of that.

"Then talk to me," she said firmly, wondering why her voice did not show how insecure she was about the situation.

"I don't like to repeat myself," the witch dangerously growled and Imogen let go of her shoulder, suddenly not knowing what to do with her hand. She just rested it in her lap and stared at it, thinking about what to say next. Or do. Constance was thrown off balance by the touch and had to breathe in and out to calm down her racing heart. What one single touch could do to her when it came from _that woman_ was unbelievable. She felt as if the magic wanted to take hold of her again but immediately realized that the tightness in her chest was caused by her own nervousness.

"I think you should go now, I want to be alone and pay my respects. Taking into consideration your lack of knowledge about witches I am obliged to inform you that witches – the same as any other human beings – need solitude to pay their respects to the dead."

Whether she wanted the younger woman to go because she needed to be alone or because she feared what might happen if she doesn't, she couldn't tell.

"Elizabeth Blushine," Imogen read the headstone out loud. "Was she your friend?"

"That is none of your business."

"So she was," the PE teacher nodded, completely ignoring Constance's attitude. "What happened to her?"

"She asked too many questions," she snapped back, immediately regretting what she just said. It was a terrible thing to say about Elizabeth's death, no matter how much she wanted to be mean and snarky towards the blonde.

As for Imogen, she had no idea how to continue the conversation. It was bad enough to talk to Constance about her feelings and the fact that she brunette was not interested in talking did not help it at all. Stubborn as she was, she refused to surrender and leave. After all, she was there to talk to Constance Hardbroom and talk to her she would!

"Elizabeth was my schoolmate, she died a year after I left the Witch Training College," Constance said much to Imogen's surprise. It was her way to apologize for the previous comment. There was no intention to continue to talk about it. And yet…

"Were you close?'

"Yes, we…" her voice failed her. It was long since she spoke about Elizabeth. Her heart felt heavy and the lump in her throat stopped her from finishing the sentence. "We were…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. The memories that were only a faded echo when using the Rational Potion were real and alive in her mind now, every moment from the past making her feel broken and desperate.

"You miss her," Imogen stated and put her hand carefully on Constance's thigh to comfort her. The witch nodded. "There is nothing weak about missing your loved ones," she added when she say how embarrassed the witch was for appearing so emotional.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand. Now leave me alone!"

Constance tried to push her away again, gathering all her inner strength to pretend she was angry when in fact she was simply confused by all the emotions and feelings. With every second she spent talking to her she felt less and less content with her decision not to get involved with Imogen. The stubbornness of the gym mistress irritated her – at the same time, she found it admiring. Attractive, even.

"No," Imogen frowned and took a deep breath. The words she was about to say were the words she had been wanting to tell Constance from that morning in the hospital wing when she woke up next to her. Something that had been on her mind since she saw the witch asleep, looking so beautiful and peaceful. That morning she saw a woman beneath all the heartless teacher surface and she fell for that woman.

"I don't know what to think of you, I really don't. At first you act like you hate me and oppose every idea I come up with, you constantly remind me of just how useless a non-witch teacher is at the Academy and you always pick a fight to show me how I do not belong to your magical world….then you smile at me and I catch you staring at me and I see you grin about something I said and I think we could be friends. But then I try to talk to you and you pretend you hate me again. And when we fight I see this sparkle in your eyes and suddenly nothing exists but you and I find it intimidating…I am curious about you, Constance. You shoot me and then you save my life. You stay by my bed all night, holding my hand and then you leave me alone in the morning, insisting you were only assigned to be there," as she was talking she stood up and starting pacing around the sitting witch, her hands on her hips. "And then…then you kiss me and leave. You didn't even ask why I kissed you back," Imogen finished and turned to look down at Constance to see her reaction.

"I didn't ask because it's not important. No matter what you would tell me, it wouldn't change the fact that we are adult _women_ and colleagues who are supposed to be an example for the girls. Such behavior is not acceptable!" she stood up as well.

"It is important for me. Constance I want to tell you that I - that I…"

"You cannot! You cannot say _that_! I ask you to stop right now!"

It was almost as if the deputy was pleading her to stop. She wanted to believe that there was nothing between them but the look on Imogen face, the hurt displayed in those piercing eyes broke her heart. Hurting the younger woman was the last thing she wanted to do and still it was all she ever did. Constance hated herself for such attitude. Without the Rational Potion it was hard to keep her distance and once the fire within her was awoken, her emotional actions could hurt the people she loved.

Wait…_loved_? The witch was taken aback by her own thoughts and took three steps back, bumping into the headstone that helped her to support herself in order not to fall to the ground. Did she _love_ Imogen?

"Go away!"

"I can't!" she was desperate, trying to show the witch how she felt. She did not want to be apart from her, she wanted to help her, to understand her, to talk to her, to hold her, to kiss her…oh, how she wanted to be allowed in her life. "If we won't act on our feelings, we won't be able to work together. And I don't either of us to leave Cackle's. I don't want to lose you," Imogen confessed.

Constance started to panic. Her head was telling her to leave right that moment and ignore that there ever was any kiss in order to maintain a professional distance from Imogen. Her heart, however, longed to comfort the upset blonde and tell her everything would be alright. When her mind and feelings were not in agreement, Constance – a woman who always valued intelligence over empathy – did not know what to do.

"There is nothing to lose because there is nothing going on between us, Miss Drill. You are talking nonsense!"

Imogen threw her hands in the air in frustration. "Don't 'Miss Drill' me! We have crossed that line long ago!"

"I fear that you might have crossed it indeed but I need to inform you that_ I _haven't!"

"Oh really? So what was it yesterday? An oral exam? Maybe my non-witch brain just doesn't know how witches greet each other after sunset and I foolishly interpreted it as a passionate kiss when the fact is, it was just a way how to say hi!" she shouted.

"Don't be ridiculous!" her voice went higher and higher with each syllable.

"What was it then? Constance, I need to hear it and you need to say it!"

"Magic! It was magic!"

"Oh, that's just great. Blame it on the magic!" Imogen rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. They were not getting anywhere with this.

There was a few seconds silence. Both women were thinking about what to say next and Imogen was gathering courage to confess her feelings (that were painfully obvious by now) to the witch. The PE teacher felt a little ashamed – she was sure Constance liked her but at the same time there was this burning uncertainty. What if the kiss really didn't mean anything? After all, everybody got lonely during the year, maybe it was just…and now she was following the potions teacher around like a lovesick puppy, probably just annoying her. All of the sudden she blushed. _Stupid, stupid!_

The other woman was also gathering her courage but not in order to express her feelings. She knew that whatever she thought she was feeling (the silly word love popping up in her head) was just an illusion caused by – let's be honest – the lack of sex. She blushed when she realized that in the middle of this serious talk she was thinking about physical pleasure. _Well, it's been years…_she shook her head, trying to come to her senses. That wasn't the time for such thoughts. Whatever she foolishly thought she felt was false. The minute she would drink the Rational Potion, such feelings would perish and she would see how ridiculous it all was. Had she acted on what she was feeling at that moment, she would have hurt Imogen because she would have to call it off after drinking the potion. It would not have been fair to the potion in her hands felt heavy and she thought about drinking it right there when a strange feeling overtook her. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation. Imogen watched her with a worried look on her face.

"Constance, are you alright?"

The witch opened her eyes. "We need to get to the castle immediately."

"If that is how you think you're getting out of this conversation, _Miss Hardbroom_…"

"Imogen, something bad in happening in the castle. Trust me, I feel it," there was no doubt in the blonde's mind that Constance was convinced she was right. She looked frightened.

"You called me Imogen," she whispered with a small smile. Constance pretended she didn't hear her and rushed to get her broom.

**_AN: Feel free to shout 'GET THEM MAKE OUT ALREADY' because really, that's what I've been shouting at Imogen and Constance since chapter one.:D reviews make me a happy bunny._**


	15. Chapter 15

_If anybody's wondering why the story is called "I Feel Everything", check out Idina Menzel's lyrics to the song of the same name. It's from Imogen's point of view. Also: LOOK PLOT. YAY_.

* * *

**Chapter 15: Not a Decision to Be Left in the Hands of a Child**

The witch picked up her broom from the ground and whispered something (Imogen couldn't hear her, but after all those years she knew it was '_hover_'), making it levitate in the air. Any other time, she would get on the broom without hesitating and fly away but now when her thoughts were not clouded by the Rational Potion (_Or cleared? She couldn't decide_), Constance turned back to look at Imogen.

"We need to get back to the castle immediately. You go first and see about the situation, I will be there shortly."

The blonde opened her mouth to protest but Constance silenced her by raising a finger: "There is not going to be any discussion about that, Miss Drill."

Imogen sighed and put one hand on her hip.

"I just wanted to say that I don't know _how_ to get back, Miss I-know-what-you-are-going-to-say." She had to admit, she did sound like a pouting five year old. But the whole attitude Constance seemed to still hold against her irritated her. The tall woman growled in frustration.

"You non-witches never think about the consequences of your meddling with magic. How on earth did you think you're going to get back? I cannot believe you would be so idiotic and think I can just wave my hands and send you hundreds of miles back to the castle in a _poof_!"

"But you're a witch!"

"Yes, indeed I am a witch! Not a bloody magician! Why do you suspect I travel by broom?" Constance covered her mouth with her hand and looked away from Imogen for a moment, thinking. She could try to send Imogen back by magic but she doubted it would work. There was lots of magical energy needed to transport someone else with her, not even mentioning to transport them 264 miles. It would be foolish to even try that – she might even end up hurting Imogen and she certainly did not want that.

"Fine. I don't need your help. I will get there by myself, the usual non-witch way and take a bus!"

Imogen started to walk away from the witch, swift steps giving away how angry she was. If the potion mistress planned on giving her another lecture about how useless ordinary people were when it came to travel, she would not give her a chance to even start.Constance was inclined to let her walk away, wondering how long it would take her to realize that by any non-magical form of transport it would take her at least 4 hours to get back to the castle, but then took two steps forward, calling out the other woman to stop her.

"Wait! It would be impossible to get back to the castle in time to help me with whatever is going on there."

"Did you just say you need my help?" Imogen stopped in her tracks, grinning.

"No. I merely stated the fact that with Amelia and Davina gone, I would need someone to assist me while solving out the problem," Constance raised her chin up – her way of trying to look casual.

"Assist is as much as I get from you, isn't it?"

The witch did not respond to Imogen's remark and simply stared at the broom. She had to find a way how to get them both to the castle as soon as possible. She was worried about her girls, the danger they might face. She knew some of her students were capable witches but if the castle was under the attack of Agatha and her wicked companions, or if some incautious girl summoned up ghosts of the past, or if Ruby combined the dangerous science with even more dangerous magic…then without her help, they could get hurt. She was responsible for their lives – not only because she was in charge but also because she truly loved her girls in that strangely mother-like way, even if she did not show it often. The thought of losing any of her girls to an unknown danger just because she decided to flee away from Imogen instead of facing her and solving out whatever needed to be solved out made her feel guilty. She should have known the younger woman would follow her. It was only her own fault that the girls were in danger now and if anything, _anything _happened to any of them, she would not be able to ever forgive herself.

While thinking, she did not notice how close Imogen got to her, standing behind her and looking over her shoulder at the broom. When she finally noticed the body heat that radiated through her skin, she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying it before she turned around to face the gym mistress. The gray-blue eyes staring up at her (the high difference was always something that fueled Constance's self-confidence when they fought) seemed to lack the irritation from a few minutes ago and were filled with genuine understanding instead.

"They will be alright," Imogen said and the words – quite unexpectedly – calmed Constance's fears. The same way Imogen always knew how to fuel her anger she could easily take away her fears. The witch nodded.

At that moment, she could no longer deny the feelings she felt for Imogen. Yet at the same time, she started convincing herself that they were of no importance.

/

After a heated conversation about why it wasn't a good idea that the two of them would travel by broom ("The combined weight of you and I would be too much for the broom!" – "Come on, if Miss Cackle can fly a broom without problem then so can we."), Constance let Imogen fly the broom with her. As it always was when it came to explaining flying to non-witches, there were a few obstacles in the way – namely, Imogen had no idea how flying a broom was actually complicated.

"Taking into consideration the fact that you are not use to flying, I must insist you sit in the front in order not to disturb the course of our flight. Had you been sitting behind me – as it is always depicted in the silly witch cartoons - you could be disturbing the balance by not sitting up properly."

The blonde nodded, showing that she was listening carefully.

"However, the danger of sitting in front is that you would have to hold the end of the broom which is similar to holding the wheel of a car. That could also send us a different direction and we could end up off the road and since I do not desire to be cut into pieces by an airplane engine, I suggest we keep our direction."

"Off the _road_?" Imogen raised her eyebrows. Since when were there air-roads in the sky? Constance sighed, the painfully non-witch question annoying her.

"We have our own, magical roads when we fly. With the development of technology, it is a dangerous business to fly off the road. It is common sense, isn't it?" she explained.

"So where do I sit? In your lap?" Imogen joked but immediately blushed, hearing how that came out. It seemed Constance picked up on it too, shifting uncomfortable.

"No, of course not. You will be sitting in the front."

"Didn't you say I could get us off the road?"

"I will be the one directing the broom," the brunette said, still looking slightly uncomfortable and possibly embarrassed. "Sit down."

She did as she was told, giving the broom one skeptical look before swinging her leg over it, sitting down at the wooden stick. It wasn't very comfortable and she wondered about how the witches can fly like that for hours. Constance smiled, obviously amused at how her colleague sat down.

"I must ask, have you ever seen me sitting on a broom like that?" she asked, this not annoyed but highly amused. After a few moments of confusion, the sitting woman realized that the position how she sat on the broom, with the handle in between her legs, was the classical position from movies and pictures of witches. However, she had never seen any of the girls or the students sitting on it like that. They always sat with both of their legs on the side, like a true lady did when riding a horse.

"Oh," Imogen blushed and swung her leg back, trying to sit in the required position but losing her balance and falling off the broom to the hard ground of the cemetery. It was not easy to sit on that thing! "Stupid piece of wood," she mumbled under her breath and stood up, trying it again.

This time she did not fall down and smiled with pride. The witch smiled back and positioned herself elegantly behind her, encircling her waist with her arms and placing her hands on the handle. Since she was taller than Imogen, her own body provided a good support to Imogen's back, with her head above Imogen's shoulder. Since a few days ago when Imogen was shot and Constance carried her to the hospital wing, this was as closer than they ever got. Naturally, it should have felt awkward.

But it did not.

Constance was surprised to find how perfect Imogen fit against her body, how pleasant the sensation of having someone lean against her was and how natural it all felt. As if they were created for a flying like that.

"Hold on tight," she whispered against Imogen's ear, sending vibrations down her spine. It was hard for the other teacher to concentrate on anything else than the warm breath next to her ear.

"Up and away!" Constance said, giving Elizabeth's grave one last look, and in a few moments they were high above the clouds.

/

Imogen Drill had never flown by a broom before. Sure, she had traveled by planes a few times in her life, and knew the view from the window, looking down at the earth that suddenly seemed much more geometrical than she would ever think. The houses seemed small in comparison to the nature around them, the rivers elegantly flowing through the cities, like snakes crawling under your feet.

Yet she never felt the wind in her face, the strange feeling of defying gravity – a mixture of fear from not having a solid ground to support her and amazing, never before experienced freedom. All of this thrilled her and surprised her but there was only one feeling that made her heart beat faster and hold her breath for a few moments: the feeling that someone was there, making sure she's safe on the broom and not letting her fall. That _Constance _was there.

As for the witch, flying was a part of her life and therefore the flight should not have been something exciting or new. However, cradling Imogen in her arms, touching her like never before and feeling the goose bumps against her skin made her own heart skip a beat. Never before had she flown with someone else on the broom. She had never wanted to protect someone as much as she wanted to protect Imogen during that flight, making sure she's safe and comfortable. Wishing the non-witch enjoyed her first broom flight ever (and thinking that it didn't have to be the last one, if only the gym mistress wanted to fly with her more often…then dismissing the thought).

In 45 minutes, they saw the Miss Cackle's Academy for Young Witches in the distance, both of them wishing the flight took longer.

/

The first sign of trouble was that most of the girls could be seen from the air, standing and sitting outside of the castle in the forest. As they closed the distance to the ground, they could hear frightened voices arguing, crying or simply talking. Then someone saw then in the sky, pointing at them and suddenly all the eyes were at them.

Miss Hardbroom carefully landed in between the trees and let go of Imogen, demanding to know what it going on.

_"There was fire-"_

_"I was so scared—"_

_"When my mother hears about this-"_

_"It almost killed Drusilla -"_

All the girls started talking at the same time and Constance wanted to silence them but Imogen beat her to it, whistling with her fingers. "Quiet!"

"You!" the potions teacher pointed at a fourth year redhead, Trixie Bloomfire. "Explain to me what on earth is going on here!"

Trixie nervously looked around, getting encouraging looks from her schoolmates and started talking.

"We were in our rooms when we heard this terrible sound – it was like an elephant's cry combined with a lion's roar, I think. And then some girls started screaming that the Great Hall is on fire and it was so hot everywhere in the castle and…and…we started to panic, Miss Hardbroom."

Panic, both teachers knew, was the most dangerous situation the girls could get themselves into. When panicking, people got hurt and stumbled to death, even without the presence of a real danger. The girl looked ashamed and stopped talking – Constance wanted to order her to continue but it was Imogen who spoke.

"Go on Trixie. It's alright, we're not mad at you. At any of you," she offered the girl a small smile, encouraging her.

"Fenella and Griselda told us to go outside and helped to calm the younger girls down and got all of us out of the castle. They told us to try to contact the teachers with an Emergency Spell so then me and some of the other girls cast the spell to get someone to help…"

The gym mistress was proud at Fenella and Griselda, who handled the situation well but at the same time felt a terrible feeling of guild for leaving the girls on their own. The other teacher understood that it was the Emergency Spell that made her aware of the situation at the Academy.

"Where are they now?" Imogen asked.

"In the castle, Miss. I think they are trying to calm the dragon down," Trixie answered.

"The dragon?" both of them exclaimed, shock written all over their faces. "There is a** DRAGON** in the castle?"

"Yes. It's really big and angry. We're afraid it will burn the castle down…" Trixie sobbed and one of her friends hugged her. Some of the girls started talking again.

_"Please, get rid of it, it's really scary!" -"I don't want to get hurt!" -"What if it kills them?"_

Constance exchanged a concerned look with Imogen, thinking what to do. If Imogen was frightened at the mention of a dragon, she did not show it.

"Is anybody hurt?" she asked.

"Only minor burns. But we heard something happened to Drusilla."

"Where is she?" Constance inquired.

"In the castle with Fenny and Gris…Mildred and her friends went there a few minutes ago to help them tame the dragon."

Mildred Hubble and her gang were always inclined to try to save the day but the information surprised both of the adult women. This was no longer about growing pumpkins and garden shows – this was a matter of life and death. Dragons were dangerous creatures, hard to hurt and even harder to tame. The fact that a group of schoolgirls (and not that skilled either) went to fight it could be called no other word but a suicide mission.

"Imogen, you stay here with the girls. I will take care of the dragon," Constance ordered and started walking toward the gate of the castle.

"Forget about that, Constance. I will be no use out here, I am going with you," Imogen decided.

"No, you're not. It's dangerous. You could get hurt," the witch hissed.

"So could you. I am not doing it for _you,_ I am doing it for our girls. They will need my help."

Constance wanted to argue but Imogen raised her finger: "There is not going to be any discussion about that, Miss Hardbroom!"

Their eyes met and a silent understanding passed between them. They had to make sure the girls are alright and to get rid of whatever was putting their lives in danger – no matter what.

Side by side, the two women entered the castle, prepared for the danger they would have to face together.

_**Love it? Hate it? Still wondering when they will finally stop tiptoeing around each other? Comment!:)**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 17: Which Witch Should I Help?**

The walk from the outside of the castle to the Great Hall seemed longer than ever before. The anticipation was growing with every step, fear of the unknown creeping into the blonde's mind.

"So…a dragon, huh?" Imogen realized her remark must have sounded extremely ignorant to Constance's ears so she added: "I didn't know dragons actually existed. I should not be surprised, though. Nothing can surprise me anymore here."

The witch felt obliged to answer something to Imogen but her head was full of thoughts, plans, possible scenarios and ways how to deal with the recently discovered feelings for Imogen which, honestly, confused her more than anything. The fact that she felt weak due to the withdrawal from the Rational Potion added irritation to her list of unwanted feelings. If only she could take the Rational Potion, everything would be easier. Stopping her chain of thoughts, she realized that she_ could_ actually take the Potion had she wanted. She was no longer flying so being a little intoxicated (even though she hated to call it like that) would not be necessarily a problem. Constance wet her lips, knowing very well what actually stopped her from drinking the green bottle: Imogen. She looked at the woman beside her, so confident and brave, ready to face a dragon – something which must have frightened her more than it frightened Constance herself. The gym mistress did not need any potions or elixirs to keep her head clear and focused on the task. She didn't need to repress her feelings and memories in order to function without collapsing. Silently, Constance admired her. She couldn't stand the fact that she would look weak in Imogen's eyes – especially not after she had seen her so vulnerable at Elizabeth's grave. If there was anything more important to Constance than having a clear mind, it was being seen as the strong one. The protector. A role she always played well and there was no reason to stop now.

Imogen felt Constance's eyes on her and looked at the witch, offering her a small smile. She could see Constance was thinking and did not notice her smile so she quickly looked away and kept walking, preparing herself for what was to come. Whatever it would be.

Soon they both got to the main gate and stopped, sharing a nervous look (not one of them would admit that) before opening the doors. As they entered the castle a glass vase was thrown against the wall right next to them, the glass shattering all over the floor. Whatever threw the vase must have done so in a moment of rage. There was a scream and the sound of something heavy moving in the Great Hall. A glimpse of a long green tail was all the women needed to confirm the theory: there was a dragon on the loose in the Cackle's Academy.

On a day like that, it wasn't easy to be a teacher.

/

"Miss Hardbroom, thanks Goodness you're here!"

No one ever thought those words would ever in a million year be uttered by a student, yet alone one half of the infamous duo Fenny and Griz. Fenella run towards the teacher, every few seconds looking behind her to see if there isn't an item flying after her or a flame blown in her direction.

"Fenella, are you alright? Where are the others?" Imogen asked, placing both of her hands on Fenella's shoulders to assure herself the girl was okay.

"Ethel and Maud are in the potions lab preparing a potion to return Conny to normal, Enid and Ruby are helping Drusilla to get here because she had broken her leg and Grizzy and Millie are distracting the dragon to keep him away from the potions lab and Drusilla," she explained, leaving lots of questions to be asked.

"Who is Conny?" Constance cut it, frowning.

"My…dragon, Miss," Fenny said with a hint of regret in her voice. She should have never brought a baby dragon to the castle in the first place. immediately she realized that confessing that little fun fact wasn't very wise either.

"YOUR DRA—" the witch started but Imogen cut her off.

"There's no time for that now. Fenny, I understand you have a plan?"

"These matters cannot be left in the hands of children, Imogen! Their plan is of no importance!"

Fenella dared to speak up: "Connie is just really scared and confused, Miss. She's a baby dragon – no bigger than a regular dog…" There was a terrible roar, sounding a lot bigger than a dog. Or a bear for that matter.

"…or more specifically – she was. She must have drunk some enlarging potion when I lost her this morning and now she doesn't know what's going on around her. Ethel and Maud are almost done with the shrinking potion…once Connie gets to her normal size again, she won't be dangerous anymore. Please, Miss Drill, she doesn't want to hurt anybody, I promise! It was all an accident, it –" the girl desperately tried to protect her pet, but her words did nothing to Miss Hardbroom. The witch looked down at her student, determination visible in her eyes.

"The dragon needs to be eliminated, Fenella Feverfew! It is dangerous for your classmates and for the village people – not to mention the world scandal if non-witches would see a real, living dragon. There are strict rules in the Witch's Code about keeping magic animals as pets, as you are fully aware, and I intend to do anything it takes to protect those rules." Her voice was harsh and cold, making the girl cry angry tears.

Before they could continue, three girls appeared across the hallway – Enid and Ruby, supporting a limping Drusilla.

"Girls, oh girls!" Imogen shouted and sprang towards them, helping them carry the injured redhead.

"We need to get her out of here," Enid motioned towards the door. "She needs to rest the leg or it will only get worse."

"Dammit, it hurts like a bloody…" Drusilla hissed, trying to control the pain. Her leg was covered in blood so it was hard to determine whether the broken bone was a serious injury or not. But judging from the pain the girl seemed to be in, it was serious.

"What happened?"

"The dragon turned and hit her with his tail, sending her to the wall," Ruby explained.

Constance did not know what to do. It was too dangerous to let the girls carry out their plan and yet she couldn't come up with anything better. Unless…

"Girls, get Drusilla outside and see to her. Imogen, go to the potions lab and get Ethel and Maud out of there immediately. I will send Mildred and Griselda out and take care of the dragon myself," the witch said. The words probably sounded much more heroic than she thought, judging from the looks everyone was giving her.

"Constance, are you sure you can…"

"Yes, I can Imogen. Now, go get Drusilla out!" the witch hurried the girls out of the castle. The blonde turned to her, worried look all over her face. Constance wanted to tell her what she was about to do but she knew Imogen would not allow her such an act. Instead, she reached to take Imogen's hand in her own.

"I want to make it clear that I do not regret what I did yesterday, Imogen. I do not regret kissing you," the words left her mouth on their own. It was amazing how a statement that she had never thought about before felt like the truest thing she had ever said.

Where did such bravery to finally say it out loud came from, she did not know. Maybe it was the fact that she knew the impact of her actions on her future did not matter anymore. The feeling was strangely liberating. Imogen's eyes kept looking for an explanation of the sudden change of heart in the witch's face but found nothing.

"We can talk about that later," the blonde said and squeezed the cold hand in her own. With those words she hurried up the stairs to the potions lab, wishing all of it would be over soon.

Constance entered the Great Hall knowing there would be no later.

/

Mildred and Griselda had a plan at the beginning. The plan was to keep throwing things into the dragon from two sides and make it chase one girl first, then the other (because everyone knew dragons were immune to spells). It was a good plan. It worked like that on tv. Then Ethel and Maud would come and make the dragon drink the potion (that part of the plan was still being planned), she would shrink back to the size of a dog and everything would be over.

Only on tv, they never run out of things to throw like the girls did.

"Any chairs left over there, Hubble?" Griselda shouted, the sixteen feet tall dragon turning her head to the girl in a swift move. Grisela backed down just in time to escape the flame that was belched in her direction.

"Everything's broken to little pieces! She doesn't even feel it anymore when I throw it!" Mildred shouted back, proving her point by throwing a piece of wood to the dragon who did not notice anything.

"Gee, we're screwed!" the fifth grader shouted, the adrenaline in her blood holding back the tears and fear that would be there otherwise.

"Mind your language, Griselda Blackwood!" a familiar voice shouted into the Great Hall, Miss Hardbroom appearing in the doors.

"HB!" Griselda called out in relief, immediately realizing she called the woman her secret nickname. It just came so natural to her that she hadn't even realized that…

"Blackwood, I suggest you get away from here in an instant before I let the dragon tear you apart for such a disrespectful attitude!"

_Well, Miss Hardbroom would never cease to be her old self, no matter what the circumstances_, Mildred thought and managed to hit the dragon in the head with a shield that hung from the wall, capturing its attention long enough for Grissy to slip past the magic creature and their potions mistress and out of the Great Hall.

Meanwhile, Miss Hardbroom took a deep breath, whispering a spell under her breath. The dragon extended its long head to Mildred with the obvious intention to bit whoever threw the shield when suddenly she froze and roared in obvious distress. It wasn't like anything Mildred had ever heard before: the cry was painful and agonizing and she almost felt sorry for the beast. Connie turned away from Mildred and looked up, trying to find out if there was a way to fly out of the room.

The girl took her chance and run to Miss Hardbroom, who was standing still with her eyes closed, whispering. She did not even notice Mildred since she was in deep concentration. She, as well as the dragon, looked in pain. The young witch could see it by the way her teacher's eyebrows come together in a suffering expression, how her hands were shaking and little streaks of sweat run down her collar. The girl stood there, perplexed by what was happening, until Griselda poked her head back in the Great Hall and shouted: "Mildred! Come on! Get out of there!"

Concerned, Millie bit her lower lip. "We have to get Maud and Ethel. I don't feel good about what she's doing," she said and followed her friend to the potions lab.

/

Ethel Hallow and Maud Moonshine were the most unlikely lab partners ever. However, when it came to important tasks such as saving the school, they were the most sensible choice: both excellent in potion making, there was a very little chance something could go wrong with the shrinking potion.

Ethel did not want to cooperate at first, but the terrible feeling of guilt forced her to do so. It was partly (or maybe _only_, but she wouldn't admit that) her fault that the dragon was on the loose. She and Drusilla overheard Mildred Hubble and her gang talk about a baby dragon they kept hidden in Mildred's room and decided to get her into trouble by making the teachers aware of the rules breaking the girl was committing by such an act. After discovering she kept a dragon in her room, she would surely get finally expelled, they thought. But just in case the discovery would not be enough, Ethel ordered Drusilla to open the window in Mildred's room and lure the dragon out: the more damage the little creature would do to the castle, the better chance the annoying girl would get expelled.

It did not even occur to them that Connie would drink an enlarging potion and grow to such a dangerous size. That the animal would have such strength to break Drusilla's leg. That they could destroy the entire school. The Hallow girl hoped that by helping with the potion, she would be one of the heroes who saved the school in the end. The fact it was her fault in the first would never have to be revealed.

The doors opened and Miss Drill entered the potions lab.

"You have to get out of here, girls. Quick, follow me!"

The students exchanged curious looks. Griselda ordered them to make the potion and they didn't know whose orders to follow now.

"The potion's almost done, Miss. Just a few more minutes!" Maud said, throwing rose petals in the bubbling cauldron.

"Maud, I said let's go. The potion doesn't matter anymore, Miss Hardbroom is handling the situation," Imogen insisted.

"No, she isn't," Mildred came into the door with Griselda, standing next to the gym mistress. Maud smiled for a moment, happy that her friends were alright.

"What do you mean, Mildred? Why isn't she handling it?" the teacher asked with a hint of panic in her voice. She worried about Constance.

Griselda, still breathing heavily from running, delivered her the shocking news: "Miss, we think Miss Hardbroom is going to kill herself."

The information triggered a familiar feeling of fear in Imogen and she cried out in pain, her small scar from the shooting earlier that week burning like that night at the forest. She pressed her palm against it, trying to control the pain but it was of no use: the pain shot through her entire body again, her breath coming out in short gasps. She had to lean against the wall behind her in order not to have a complete break down.

The remaining girls gasped in surprise: first at the information about their deputy headmistress and then at the sudden pain their PE teacher seemed to be. Griselda immediately supported the teacher, laying a hand on her back to somehow help her.

The gesture reminded Imogen of the night of the kiss. The pain stopped and she straightened up again, eyes glassy with tears.

"Are you alright, Miss?" Griselda asked, worried look in her eyes. All the girls looked worried and scared, seeing their teacher in pain.

"Yes, thank you," Imogen sighed, clearing her throat in order not to speak in a hoarse voice. Constance was in danger – danger of herself, and that was all that mattered to her at that moment.

"You said you suspect Constance…Miss Hardbroom is going to harm herself. Why would you think such a thing, Mildred?"

"There is only way to defeat a dragon and that is to take away its magic. Without magic, dragons vanish because as well as we are, they are creatures who born from magic. I've never seen it done but I've read about it," Griselda answered instead of Mildred, who was only relying on her gut feeling and couldn't exactly explain to Miss Drill why she thought Miss Hardbroom was attempting to kill herself.

"It…it was always fatal for all the wizards who attempted it. No one can hold so much magic energy, not even Miss Hardbroom…"

Imogen did not need to hear any other. Suddenly, everything made sense. She could finally understand how great Constance's quiet suffering was, why she said she did not regret kissing her. Why she took her hand. Why she looked so tragic.

"Give me to potion and get away from the castle," Miss Drill ordered, taking the matters into her own hands.

/

_Please, don't let it be too late_, she wished when she was rushing down the stairs into the Great Hall.

/

The witch stood by the doors, breathing heavily as she felt the unbearable magic flowing through her, every word that left her mouth bringing more and more of it, until her knees started to buckle. She was hot, sweat running down her temple and under her dress, heating her body to a point when she was about to faint.

But she couldn't let herself faint. Not yet. She needed to finish what she started, take the dragon with her. Then, then everything would be over.

"Constance!"

Hearing Imogen's voice made her heart jump a beat. She didn't turn, fearing it would distract her from the spell. Two hands pressed softly against her shoulders from behind, holding her still while the blonde encircled her to see her face to face.

"Stop it. You don't have to do this."

Still repeating the magic spell in her mind, the witch answered: "Leave me alone. It's the only way."

Then, unlike Constance anticipated, Imogen really withdrew her hands. The dragon was crying out in agony as she felt her life-supporting magic leaving her and turned to burn the attacking witch. The flame, however, was blocked by some sort of an invisible shield shielding the witch and the young gym teacher. Angry, the dragon rushed to the windows.

"Stop being so goddamn heroic, Constance!" Imogen shouted with tears in her eyes. "This is not about the dragon and you know it."

The witch kept saying the spell, her body shaking violently.

"It is about you and Elizabeth and Broomhead and your damn feeling of guilt, isn't it?"

The dragon hit the windows, breaking one of them. Still it wasn't enough to escape.

"You don't have to do this. It won't make you a hero. This…this show you're putting on is just a desperate act of cowardice!"

Constance felt the magic would destroy her soon and the painful memories mixed with Imogen's voice, taking her to places she did not want to go ever again.

/

"_Unlike you, Constance, I did not choose Elizabeth because of her special talent for magic," Mistress Broomhead addressed the deputy, who was sitting with her in Amelia's office. Everyone had gone somewhere, leaving the two of them alone, probably exactly what Broomhead wanted. The inspector's visit was nothing but suffering for the deputy headmistress._

_Constance's hand was shaking when she put the already marked test down._

"_You know what I chose her, don't you?" the wicked tone the witch used made the younger woman's heart beat faster. She kept her gaze on the paper in front of her._

"_After you left the College, I didn't have anyone to play with." _

_The words disgusted Constance the same way the disgusted her all those years ago. Running a blade down someone's chest was not a game, holding someone under the water till they almost drowned was not a game, making people kill innocent animals was not a game…yet, Broomhead always called it playing._

"_And you, you, you Constance…you refused to stay and be my deputy. As you can see, I had no other choice. Elizabeth was the closest thing to you, my favorite toy, that was left in my reach. I am sure you understand," the sweet tone was the most evil sound for the sitting brunette._

_Broomhead's mouth formed into a dark smile as she continued: "She wasn't like you. What a shame, really. I broke her in the end, I did. It took so many screams – oh, Constance, you should have heard the screaming! It was music to my ears. But –"_

_The anger battled the primal fear in Constance. _

"_But I am sure you had heard Elizabeth's screams all that time she sneaked into your bedroom, didn't you? Oh, don't act so surprised. Of course I knew. I will let you know onto a little secret."_

_Mistress Broomhead came closer to Constance, thin lips next to her ear. "Elizabeth slid her beautiful wrists because of you, Hardbroom. She thought you would come to save her from me. But you never came, did you?"_

_Constance's eyes filled with tears. Still, the experience from her past did not allow her to react. In that moment Davina danced (literally) into the Staff Room and Constance disappeared. _

/

"This is your easy way out, Constance! Nothing justifies killing yourself and you know it. This won't justify your death or Elizabeth's. Please listen to me!" Imogen was getting desperate. The witch didn't look like she would stop anytime soon and she was scared of losing her.

"I cannot lose you. I love you," she shouted. She imagined it would magically work and make Constance stop…well, it did not. After that, there was nothing else Imogen could say to stop Constance from killing herself, claiming it as a heroic act of saving the girls when in reality, such act wasn't necessarily needed. Imogen Drill, being a practical woman, tried one more thing. With all the strength she had, she threw herself onto the witch, taking her down to the floor and stopping her chanting. The dragon stopped whining the moment they hit the ground. "It worked…" Imogen whispered to herself.

Another roar reminded her that the victory was not hers yet. Actually, she did not really have a plan so…

"I'll borrow this!" she heard Fenella's voice as the girl snatched the bottle of shrinking potion from her hand and run towards the dragon. As Connie turned to roar at the girl, she threw the potion in the wide open mouth.

In a few seconds, the dragon started to get smaller, until he was not bigger than a regular dog. Just like the girls originally planned.

"Good shot, wasn't it Miss Drill?" the girl smiled in exhaustion but her teacher wasn't listening. Imogen's gaze was fixed at the unconscious Constance under her. She was hardly breathing.

"Come on, please. Don't leave me here alone," she sobbed, taking Constance's face in her hands and tracing the wrinkles with her thumbs.

There was too much unsaid and undone for the witch to die.

_**What a cliffhanger, huh? New chapter coming soon, very soon actually. I am not that cruel!**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: I Don't Think It's a Fairytale**

To say that the gym mistress was an emotional mess was an understatement.

When the beautiful witch wouldn't open her eyes on the floor of the Great Hall, she was scared to death. She feared she came too late, that Constance was dead and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing existed when she held the older woman in her arms, there was nothing else but the slow, uneven beating of her heart against Imogen's hand. She took her pulse and calmed herself down: the witch would live.

When she carried the tall woman up the stairs to her chamber, she needed the help of two more pupils. Constance wasn't heavy – quite the opposite – but she was unconscious and Imogen was afraid she could drop her and hurt her. Laying her on the bed, she blushed when her hand brushed Constance's chest. She sent the students away, closing the doors behind her to protect them from prying eyes.

When Imogen realized how sweaty the witch was and that she needed to be undressed in order for the dress to be cleaned, her stomach fluttered and her heartbeat increased significantly. Taking a deep breath she overcame her irrational nervousness (after all, it wasn't like Constance had anything she hadn't seen before) and gently sat down next to the brunette, her hands trembling as she unbuttoned the first button.

When she was done with the buttons, the young woman simply stared at the beautiful, yet still covered body in front of her. It felt strangely intimate and somehow sinful what she was doing. That was, of course, completely silly because she hadn't _actually_ been doing anything, nor was she thinking about it.

Alright, well, maybe she _was thinking_ about it a little.

The gym mistress gently opened the dress that revealed the porcelain skin. Immediately she saw the dark scars marking the delicate alabaster skin, and she gasped and put her hand to her mouth, not believing her eyes. Like a spider web, the scars crept from Constance's ankles to her belly, a few curving on her thighs, disappearing under her underwear and then up to her chest. She saw a pair of initials burnt into the soft looking skin, right above her right hip bone: _H.B_. The pain of the past hit Imogen with its cruelty and she let out a muffled cry. The unconscious woman was both tragically beautiful and beautifully tragic. Imogen found herself at the verge of tears as she reached to run her fingertips along one of the scars but then she drew her hand back, deciding against it. No matter what her feelings for Constance were (or rather _because_ of the feelings she had), she couldn't just touch the brunette simply because she wanted to. Lust was about attraction but love was about respect and Imogen, no matter how much self control it took, did not want her relationship with Constance to be about lust.

_Relationship_, she thought. _Yeah, dream on_.

Ever so gently, the gym mistress undressed her and got her oversized t-shirt she usually used for sleeping from her room, putting it on the sleeping beauty (it was easier than trying to find nightgowns in the witch's closet). Then she tucked her under a thin sheet, undid her half-destroyed bun and brushed the hair from her face, silently watching her some time, replaying the last few days in her mind.

As she closed the doors behind her to attend to the mess in the Great Hall, she looked back once more, hoping Miss Hardbroom would one day let her touch the scars and soothe them.

/

First, there was cleaning up to do in the Great Hall. Imogen was pleasantly surprised that by the time she got back from Constance's chamber, all the girls from the school were tidying up: the older girls were fixing items with more complex spells and the younger girls helped by manual cleaning and sweeping. Griselda locked up the dragon, Connie, in one of the storage rooms to keep her from running away again (of course, almost all the girls went to look at the adorable little dragon when they weren't helping around) and Fenella organized the dinner. Miss Tapioca, who was still a little shaken from the experience, made her famous pasta to celebrate the victory over '_the big bad draco_!' and Doctor Cell who slept through the entire accident (she claimed she did not know her sleeping pills were that strong) was attending Drusilla and all the hurt girls.

Imogen couldn't bring herself to eat anything so she just played with the food on her plate, thinking about Constance. The more the thought about what happened, the more she upset herself. After the dinner she made sure all the girls went to beds and stayed there, even though she knew there will be footsteps heard when she goes to her chamber to sleep: girls were girls and they needed to chat about what happened that day.

Every few hours, Imogen checked on the sleeping witch to give her some water and move her a little in order not to cause any bed sores.

When closing her eyes, all Imogen Drill could dream of was the terror of losing her dear Constance.

/

The next day she carried out the punishments – from assigning all the girls who were directly involved to scrub the entire castle from the roof to the dungeons, to making Griselda and Fenella rewrite the Witch's Code one hundred times to understand the meaning of '_no magic animals are allowed under any circumstances to keep as household animals_'. She did not know what to do with the baby dragon but figured that once Amelia was back, she would sort that issue out. It was Thursday and the headmistress along with the first and second years would be coming the next day, possibly accompanied by Davina's singing all the way from Weirdsister's.

The day went by and Imogen desperately hoped everything would be alright.

/

Ever so slowly, Constance opened her eyes. She had dreamed of dragons and flames and a confession of love. She had dreamed of never waking up again.

Only, she hadn't dreamed.

The witch blinked a few times, adjusting her vision to the darkness around her. She felt soft mattress brush lightly against her legs, realizing just how exposed she was under the thin sheets. She sat up, her long hair tickling the back of her neck, the sheet falling to her lap as she straightened her back. Judging by the darkness seeping through the window, she could say it was deep night even though she couldn't exactly pin point the time.

It took her a few moments to remember what happened: how they got to school, how she foolishly fought the dragon, how she said she did not regret kissing Imogen, how the woman tried to make her stop the Spell, how she thought that saying that she loved her would make her change her mind and then, then there was darkness and she could remember no more. Constance felt ashamed when she realized she hadn't stopped her suicidal spell after she heard the heart breaking confession of love from the woman she secretly (and not so secretly at the same time) cared for more than she let the world know. Maybe she should have stopped, maybe that would prove her own feelings without the need to say it. Imogen deserved that much.

Running her hand through her ebony hair, she sighed and suddenly became too aware of the fact how every bony and ever nerve in her body hurt, her entire body sore from the magic transfer she attempted earlier. She slipped out of the bed, bare feet only lightly touching the cold stone floor first, then standing up, feeling the cold creep from her feet up to her neck. She shuddered and hugged her skinny form, the unfamiliar feeling of an oversized t-shirt that certainly was not hers making her uncomfortable. Someone must have undressed her before laying her to the bed and the mere thought that her body (that was too skinny at places where the bones were not supposed to stick out and too sharp to possibly please the eye) was seen by that someone, all her scars and bruises, made her panic.

She decided to put her night robe on and check the castle, a routine that tended to calm her down.

Some would think that was the end of it: the fearsome dragon was defeated, love was confessed and everyone was safe. Constance understood the poetry of it – but it was her who had to face the aftermath full of paper filling, cleaning the Great Hall, carrying out the punishments and most of all facing her own devils again.

And then, the most importantly, there was also Imogen.

/

The halls of the castle were quiet that night. The adrenaline rush from the previous day was gone, everything what was needed to be said between the girls was said the previous night and every young witch slept, dreaming of their own prince Charming that would rescue them one day from a terrible fire-spitting beast.

Imogen was going around the castle with a lantern that helped her to guide her path and illuminate the dark halls. When she was about to end her night shift, she saw a shadow at the end of the hall and she illuminated it, seeing a tall, elegant woman closing the distance between them.

Constance could only stare at the blonde, admiring how the beautifully tanned skin glowed in the soft light of the candle. Never before had she seen another woman look so breath-taking: dressed in a simple nightgown, with the piercing grey eyes staring at her wide open. The witch noticed how perfectly the short dark green nightgown emphasized the (many times before seen and admired) hips and chest and all the words she possibly thought of got stuck in her chest.

For Imogen, Constance was a marvelous creature. With her hair down, she looked like one of those divine women from Mucha's paintings that she always admired. Her lips were full and clearly shaped, strong jaw making her look predatory and strong. The brown eyes reminded Imogen of all that happened. The anger she held back because of her fear for Constance's life suddenly came to the surface, her feet moving on their own towards the standing deputy.

Before the brunette could react to the movement, Imogen slapped her across her face.

"Don't ever do that do me again," the blonde whispered loud enough for the other woman to hear her and put down the lantern, throwing her arms around Constance's neck and hugged her, tears of relief escaping her eyes. No words could describe the happiness she felt when she saw Constance was there with her and she never wanted to let go of her, fearing she would disappear if she did.

To her surprise, she felt warm touch on her back as Constance returned the hug, softly running her hands up and down her spine, reassuring her she was really there.

"Forgive me," was all the witch managed to say.

/

_**Took them long enough, aye? Stay tuned for a new chapter, hopefully tomorrow. It will be M rated but I will offer you the option to read a T version of the fanfic as well, for some people might not be completely okay with the M rating. And for all of you who are indeed alright with the M rating...you know what's coming.:P Reviews feed my writing speed, just telling you! hint hint!**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Don't Answer Me Back**

Imogen was tired of tiptoeing around the witch, tired of pretending that she _didn't_ want her,_ didn't _need her. The want was visible in her eyes as she held her gaze, the need showed by the way her whole body hungered for Constance: temperature rising by a few degrees, familiar warmth spreading from her lower regions through every vein, heart pumping oxygenated blood to her brain even though it felt as if she had no air, as if she had to act on the urges in order to take a full breath. The whirlwind of emotions she experience in the past week finally got to her and she dared to speak up - anything that would set her mind back into reality.

"We should talk," she said when she released Constance from the tight embrace even though none of the activities she longed to do at that moment required speaking.

The tall brunette didn't respond immediately – instead she looked deeply into Imogen's eyes. This time, she didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular. This time, she seemed to simply stare, mesmerized by the wild, raw animal energy she saw there. It made the blonde shiver, the intensity of the witch's glare. Constance slowly lifted her hands to Imogen's shoulders and caressed her through the thin robe, sliding up and down her arms, then prolonging the move to Imogen's hips and thighs. The younger woman didn't move, breath caught in her throat. The sensation of the delicate fingertips tracing her body ever so softly aroused her more than such a simple touch should have. There was a sort of possessive feeling to the movement, as if Constance was claiming her. Not like she minded being claimed by the tall potions mistress. Not _at all. _Still, it was rather unexpected._  
_

In one last attempt to rationalize the situation, Imogen covered Constance's hands with her own and stopped them at her hips, her body shivering with anticipation.

"Constance, maybe we should really talk about th…_oh_."

She moaned as the witch leaned closer and claimed her neck with her lips, sucking at the skin she found there. It sent shivers through Imogen's body and it responded by arching towards the brunette. What had gotten into the witch was beyond her but again, she didn't complain.

"No talking. Just…feeling," Constance said in a low voice against Imogen's neck, sending pleasing goosebumps down her arms. To show Imogen what she meant, she encircled her waist and pulled her close, her long dark-brown hair creating a curtain from one side as she leaned in to gently brush her lips against Imogen's. The magical sensation of being kissed by Constance Hardbroom swept the gym mistress off her feet and she would certainly fall had she not backed into the wall, taking the older woman with her and pulling her into a more passionate kiss, one that they both craved for over the last two days (plus a few years).

Neither of them was kissing for the first time, or the second time, or the tenth time. They knew how kisses should feel, how wrong they could get if one started thinking instead of feeling. Fearing Constance might start using her brain instead of her tongue, Imogen gave her no chance to be bored, nibbling and biting onto her lower lip, trying out just what exactly Constance liked. As it turned out, the witch was extremely found of the biting part and the blonde could tell by the loud moan that escaped the ruby lips when her teeth sank gently into them. She let her hands brush through the dark mane, enjoying the feeling of soft long hair slipping through her fingers: a rare experience for a woman who had never had her hair longer than to her shoulders. The way her hands were tangled in Constance's hair gave her a feeling of control and she pulled on the hair to deepen the kiss, both surprising and arousing the witch by the unexpected gesture.

She felt Constance's body pressing into her own, the thin silky layer of clothes between them sliding up and down against each other as they moved. She needed to feel the brunette, to press to her without the barrier that made her thoughts go crazy with the possibilities of how exactly the touch would feel without it. How it would feel to be arching her naked body into the curious hands that were exploring her sides, then her belly, then the space between her breasts and then tentatively encircling her sensitive nipples. Imogen gasped and then growled in frustration, needing the world to fulfill the premise of the naked bodies under the silky nightgowns.

The older woman pressed her harder against the wall, her naked thigh finding its way between Imogen's legs to keep her in place. Keeping her in place was the last thing the blonde thought of when the pale skin collided with her center, the feeling sending hot impulses to every millimeter of her body. What the witch was doing to her was simply _beyond _her rational understanding. She also realized the importance of what they were doing, the disastrous impact it would have on their future if done for the wrong reasons.

One more hungry kiss, one more pull of the hair and she spoke: "We can still stop." The words came out more like a moan, for Constance was nibbling on her ear, with her hands cupping her breasts. Had Imogen been able to look to her lover's eyes, she would see the concupiscent spark that gave away Constance's answer. However the sportswoman was too distracted by the fast breathing against her neck to open her eyes, making small sounds of pleasure to guide the witch.

"I do not think that we can," Constance reacted truthfully, her hand moving up to Imogen's cheek as she kissed her again, leaving her no time to argue. Then again, Imogen wasn't coherent enough to construct a whole sentence anyway. There were only two words she managed to say before both of them disappeared into the thin air:

"Bed. Now."

* * *

**_Nothing kills the mood than a good old AN. The next chapter entitled 'Chapter 18: M-version' is a continuation of this chapter, however if you do not like to read mentions of explicit sex (smut, in short) you can skip it and you won't miss any vital information (then again you will miss onto a lots of loving!). If you were waiting for the sexy times since chapter one, read the next chapter, hee. Enjoy. Comment are love. _**_**Thank you for reading.**_

_**Also, I made a manip of Constance and Imogen kiss from this chapter (ht tp : / i833 . photobucket . com /albums/ zz259 /blondie0136/ hb_drill . png). Delete the blank spaces and paste into your browser.**_


	19. Chapter 18: Mversion

A sudden, unexpected rush took hold of Imogen's body for a moment and she lost the ground under her feet. Any other day she would shake her head at such a cheesy thing to say but this time it was to be taken literally. She opened her eyes as her back bumped into something and she turned, finding herself in Constance's chamber, with the woman still pressed tightly against her flushed body. It took her a moment of confusion to realize they magically transported – now that was something she had never experienced before. The magic she felt a moment ago left her speechless. Well, this wasn't exactly what she meant when she said _'Now._' but alright.

The witch used the fact that Imogen's lips were slightly open in surprise and slipped her tongue in, trying to forever memorize that thrilling feeling of kissing Miss Drill. It took her years to realize the feelings she had for the blonde and with every kiss, every caress, she tried to make up for the lost time. There was too much thinking at her part every day and she let herself feel, simply feel the rushing blood under the blonde's skin, the softness of her lips, the wetness against her thigh.

She let herself take what she wanted, what she needed, not worrying about the consequences.

They moved to the bed, their bodies pressed together in an attempt to get as close as physically possible. Still, they craved more. Their legs were tangled as Constance softly pushed Imogen into the soft mattress and landed on top of her, hands all over the sun-kissed skin. The non-witch felt so right under her, flushed and provocative, every inch of her body inviting the tall brunette to touch her, to take her. Constance run her hands from Imogen's face down her neck, her chest and her stomach, slowly sitting up straddling the blonde. Lying there like that, lips half open and swollen from Constance's hard kisses made her look almost vulgar. The mere thought that the woman was hers and hers only – the thought that she would soon claim this stunning teacher as her own – made her so wet she was sure it was showing.

Constance Hardbroom was very possessive when it came to women and she knew it.

Imogen was looking up at her with the light gray eyes half-closed and a playful smile across her lips. The witch was beautiful, the intensiveness with which she travelled her chocolate-colored eyes up and down her still over clothed body making her look like a lioness stalking a prey. No one had ever made Imogen feel so sexy and wanted and no one had ever looked more attractive than the dark woman straddling her legs. Their eyes met and studied each other for a moment before their lips crushed in another heated kiss. Constance couldn't stand the silky fabric of Imogen's nightgown tickling her skin any longer and she worked on undoing the few buttons of the green gown with one hand, while already trying to get it off with the other. The other woman smiled at her eagerness and caught her wrist, stopping her from unbuttoning. A moment of fear passed through the witch, thinking Imogen changed her mind. She quickly looked at her face but instead of rejection she saw a grin.

"Let me," Imogen whispered and moved from under her, sitting on the bed opposite Constance who mirrored her position. She could see the blonde was as eager as she was and yet she was slowing down their set rhythm to unbutton her own clothing. The anticipation of seeing the naked form of Imogen Drill almost made her scream in frustration: the short-nailed fingers undoing the buttons with a killing slowness. Constance stared at the beauty in front of her, the moon reflecting on the silk material until it wasn't there anymore, Imogen soundlessly throwing it to the ground. A sudden embarrassment hit the younger teacher when she felt her lover staring at her exposed body. It was one of the most courageous acts she'd ever done. The witch's eyes felt like flames on her skin, warming her up and she knew she was being admired even though it was hard to accept. Her body wasn't flawless and she knew it: she lacked the elegance most women seemed to posses naturally and she was too boyish here and there. Still, the hunger in Constance's eyes was the proof that she was indeed wanted.

The dark haired woman reached forward and took Imogen's hand in her own, kissing the back of it with all the adoration that was possible to put into such a small gesture. She wanted to show how sorry she was for everything: a sting of guilt stabbed her in the heart when she saw the scar she had caused by the accidental shooting a few days ago.

"Mine," she said, the pride in her tone melting Imogen's heart.

Imogen leaned in and kissed Constance's lips, then her chin and continued down her neck until she couldn't reach anymore without moving herself closer. Then she wanted to undress the pale woman but she pulled away from her touch and clutched the opening of her nightgown tight in her fist.

"No, don't," she looked away in shame. Imogen knew what was troubling her and she crawled closer to her, resting her legs around Constance's waist, both still in a sitting position.

"They don't mean anything. They are just scars," she spoke softly. The witch still refused to look up, the irrational part of her brain telling her she would die if anyone had seen the ugly scars that revealed the secrets of her haunting past.

"They mean _everything_."

She didn't move as Imogen took her hands in hers and gently put them away, tentatively opening the robe. Constance closed her eyes, feeling the material slip from her shoulders to the bed.

"Look at me, Constance!" she heard Imogen say in a commanding tone. She obeyed, thinking she could not be any more humiliated than that. Her scars were ugly and terrible, not pleasing to the eye at all, only earning her sorry looks from anyone who would ever see them.

There was no pity in the younger woman's expression. There was only a great sorrow and an even greater desire.

"I want you," she reached to touch the scar that started under Constance's breasts and traced it with her finger down to her belly button. She wanted to know how she got it but she didn't ask, knowing that was not the time. The brunette shuddered. "I want all of you, and this, this is a part of you._ You_ are who defines the scars, don't let them define you."

After a few more gentle caresses, Imogen was finally able to make the witch relax under her touch and give in to the sensation of being touched. The muscles in her body lost the tension and the witch surrendered to the amazing woman, letting her guard down completely.

"Touch me," she whispered when Imogen's hand followed one of the scars to her hips and below, pausing before lightly brushing the edges of the black knickers.

Hearing the words darkened Imogen's eyes with pure desire and she hooked her fingers around Constance's underwear, tugging at it. The brunette lifted herself up to her knees, looking down at her with a smirk. It was clear she wanted Imogen to undress the remaining clothing without her assistance. Imogen grinned back, more to herself than to the poison mistress, as she removed her panties in one move, sending them to her knees and then slowly lifting Constance's knees up, sliding the black cloth to her ankles and finally off the bed. The stunning woman was kneeling on the bed naked, her back straight and her untamed hair partly covering her chest. Imogen who was in the same position was a little shorter than her and the witch liked that she felt in charge, towering above the blonde as she usually did outside of the bedroom.

Imogen did as she was told and touched the witch's exposed center, the back of her hand meeting with the hot wetness that told her she was more than ready. It surprised her, really, that she could get that kind of reaction from a woman who was probably called frigid more times than any other adjective. She pressed harder against the sensitive part, making Constance whimper in pure pleasure. She let her other hand hook around Constance's elegant neck and she pressed her breasts against the other woman. It was very obvious how she enjoyed the sounds the brunette kept making – the sounds she made her make - every time she would slightly change the pressure or the position of her fingers. It was almost like playing the piano: every move of her finger luring out a different tone. Constance's hands slid down Imogen's waist, keeping herself steady as she rocked back and forth against the hand, the carbon dioxide coming out from her mouth in short breaths. She buried her face in the blonde's neck, her breathing wetting the skin there.

"Imogen…_please_," she begged, fully aware that begging was something she would never do under any other circumstances. But with Imogen's long fingers rubbing against her, yet not fully giving her the release she needed, there was no other way. She needed to feel her inside, to feel Imogen Drill fucking her in her own chamber, in her bed, secretly in the darkness of the night. Grinning, the non-witch continued her teasing for a few more moments before she slipped a single digit in her, transforming the moaning into more audible sounds. She felt Constance's teeth on her shoulder, biting her. _That will definitely leave marks_, she thought as she scratched on the moaning woman's back in return, the pain adding to Constance's arousal.

The witch was moving faster and faster against her hand, the needy sounds hinting that it was not enough for her. Constance needed more, she needed to _feel _more. Imogen thrust faster and harder, adding another finger, feeling the waves of new kind of energy surrounding them. She was fully aware of the _sexual_ energy but the intense, electrifying particles she could literally feel seeping through her skin was something completely different and it seemed to emit from the panting witch.

_Magic_, she realized. The ancient magic filled the air with new, pulsing energy and it both amazed and frightened the non-witch. It was powerful and unpredictable, intensifying with every move of her hand, with every loud moan Constance let out. The immense pleasure coursing through the witch's body was getting more and more unbearable until she thought it was simply not possible to feel more. Imogen brought their mouths together and brushed her thumb against _that spot_, right _there_, sending the witch over the edge with a hard, lustful kiss and a silent scream on her lips. She felt Constance tighten around her fingers and stop moving for a moment and then relax so completely against her that Imogen almost fell over.

They stayed like that for a few moments, the magic energy fading away as quickly as it came. Constance pressed her forehead against Imogen's and licked her lips, exhaustion showing in her flushed face. The magic that took control of her body when she came still tingled all over her skin.

"I could feel it, too," the blonde whispered with a smile.

Her partner was still calming down her racing heart and could not bring herself to say anything else than 'Huh?' which resulted in Imogen giggling.

"The magic. I could feel the magic, too."

"Oh, that. Yes, yes I suppose it was a side effect of my…well, a side effect," Constance cleared her throat, organizing her thoughts. It was very hard to concentrate when she could smell her own sex in the air and realized that Imogen still hadn't withdrawn her hand.

"Orgasm, Constance. You're not sixteen to be embarrassed to address it properly," she said and brought the hand from in between the brunette's legs to her mouth, licking her fingers to taste _her_. "I am pretty sure we don't have to act as blushing teenagers over such matters as sex, am I right?"

The sight of the usually well-behaved gym mistress doing something that in Constance's young days was considered highly vulgar left her unable to formulate any witty remark. God, it was so sexy. She needed to take the younger woman right there and in that very moment or she would go insane.

Imogen realized she was being pushed back into the mattress, wet kisses being placed all over her collar bone and Constance's body between her legs. Their skin brushed, the witch's naked abdomen sliding against Imogen's center, making her moan out loud. Constance was strong, pressing into Imogen's body and caressing her where she reached: her shoulders, arms, breasts, thighs…all over her body.

The brunette was eager to show the younger woman how exactly she felt a few minutes ago and continued lower, leaving wet kisses on her stomach, placing a special kiss on her scar. When Imogen realized what exactly was Constance about to do her brain froze, all distracting thoughts disappearing and focusing on the only sight: the dark brown hair between her open legs. She stopped breathing.

Constance playfully looked up, the word _minx_ crossing Imogen's mind, and touched her through the only remaining piece of clothing the blonde was wearing. In such a situation, the small knickers felt like an entire winter outfit. Constance, still holding her gaze, whispered a foreign word, biting into her own lip after she spoke. Nobody ever made Imogen wet like that, with a soft touch and a single look. The underpants under the witch's hand disappeared (quite literally) and suddenly she was touching her, pressing against her with her palm, bathing in her wetness.

At that moment Imogen fully understood with it meant to be sleeping with a witch. And she loved it.

When the talented tongue bore into her, the teacher arched her back and let her moans grow louder and louder. She was squirming as Constance's tongue made her feel things she didn't know she could feel, nibbling and sucking and sending her completely out of the orbit. She heard a loud scream only to realize, minutes later, that the scream had come from her when she hit her climax, hands tangled in the witch's hair, pressing her against herself with uncontrollable force. She didn't seem to mind. Constance brought herself up to Imogen's lips and kissed her with passion, showing her that she wasn't the only one who could be quite obscene if she wanted to be. The blonde tasted herself on that oh-so-talented tongue, sour and sweet essence mixing together and creating something uniquely _them_.

She run her fingertips softly over the witch's cheek and smiled. Constance was so beautiful in the moonlight. She found herself under the witch's spell and she wouldn't trade the feeling for anything in the world.

/

"I sincerely hope it won't take a life-threatening situation for you to tell me that you do not regret this," Imogen said as they laid next to each other, their fingers entwined.

"I do not regret this," Constance kissed her temple, watching the gym mistress drift to sleep in her arms.

She was there and she was hers, and that was all that mattered.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Perhaps You Are Right, Mildred**

There was an indescribable freedom unleashed in Imogen when Constance allowed her to touch her. She unexpectedly woke up a few hours after she fell asleep in Constance's arms. It was still too soon to get up and do anything so she settled for looking at the sleeping woman next to her, admiring how peaceful she looked when she slept, how the darkness seemed not to hide her face but on the contrary, bring out her best features. She felt the urge to touch the sleeping brunette, to feel her under her fingers. Suddenly she wanted to touch her _there,_ under her ear, where she had that little brown spot; or _there,_ trace her nose with her finger up and down; oh, _and there_, at that soft-looking skin just above her collarbone and…

"Imogen, please, I am trying to sleep," the witch growled sleepily and frowned without opening her eyes.

"I thought you were asleep," the blonde whispered in the dark, keeping her hands to herself. She had no idea what to do with them now. "I apologize, really."

"Goodnight," the witch said, half-asleep. She truly enjoyed Imogen's gentle exploits of her upper body but she was tired and wanted to sleep (something very rare for her anyway) and it _was _distracting.

"Goodnight. And I am really sorry, had I known you were actually awake I wouldn't be poking and touching you like that, I really apo…"

"Imogen?"

"Yes?" she answered immediately, hoping to strike a conversation. There was so much to be said about _why_ they slept together, _what_ it meant for them, _how_ to deal with it, _how_ to…

"Shut up."

/

It was no surprise that when she woke up, Constance was not sleeping next to her. That kind of behavior was expected from the witch, from someone who always avoided all cheesy love-clichés as much as possible and waking up to the '_face of your lover'_ was unmistakably one of them.

It was surprising, however, that when Imogen opened her eyes, she _could _see Constance in the room, brushing her hair opposite the bed with her back turned but her eyes watching her through the mirror. The blonde sat up on the bed and run her hand through her hair, scratching her neck and slowly adjusted her vision to the light in the room. It was nice outside – the chilling air in the room showing that it wasn't hot but it was sunny. The air was refreshing and Imogen felt the need for a morning run.

"Good morning, Miss Drill," Constance said in her usual professional tone but with a hint of amusement.

"Mornin'," Imogen yawned and stretched, choosing to stay under the blanket for a few more minutes.

Constance continued to brush her hair (Imogen was surprised how much attention she paid to the process) and then combed it into the famous bun, paying attention to every little hair that could stick out. When she was done, she smiled at Imogen in the mirror. The smile almost melted Imogen's heart for she had rarely seen it before.

"I suspect by this time Miss Tapioca's breakfast is ready and I suggest we go downstairs and make sure the tables are not louder that is appropriate for a school breakfast," she said and stood up, checking the hair in the mirror one last time.

"And I suggest we leave the girls to be as loud as they want and have breakfast in bed," Imogen grinned, her happiness from last night shining through.

"Yes, well, I cannot agree to that suggestion for two reasons: the first one being that there is a no-food rule in my bed and the second one is that such an act of irresponsibleness would be outrageous, especially when we are the only two authorities in the school for the next two days." Imogen simply sighed and shrugged, not wanting to start an argument with the witch. Not that early in the morning anyway.

"Today, actually. Miss Cackle is flying in _today_ with the girls," she corrected Miss Hardbroom. The brunette raised her eyebrow in confusion. "You slept through a day yesterday. It's Friday."

"And you did not feel the need to inform me about that? What were you thinking! Do you know much work I have to do before Amelia comes back?" Constance said a little louder than she intended, her surprise automatically turning into anger. It was very common for her to get angry about things she was confused about: confusion was a weakness and anger always perfectly masked it.

"We haven't exactly talked much yesterday, did we?" the blonde shot back, getting grumpy from the way Constance suddenly started acting. The mood in the room shifted from peaceful and 'morning-after-glowish' to irritated. Imogen slipped from the bed, picking up her robe from the ground where she carelessly let it fall the previous night.

"And it wasn't like I didn't want to talk, Constance. I gave you the opportunity to talk, remember? Listen to yourself, you are being ridiculous."

She tied the robe around her naked body, not bothering to find her underpants. She knew from working with the other woman for so many years that her initial reaction to confusing situations was to shut everyone out and deal with it on her own – which was something that would definitely not help their relationship at that point. Imogen couldn't let Constance ruin what could be a functioning relationship just because she didn't know how to deal with it. Constance stared at her for a few moments and then sighed, admitting she over-reacted a little. She knew Imogen had her best interest at heart but she needed more than one passionate night to figure out how exactly to act around the younger woman. She was sure she loved her and Imogen loved her back but in the mind of Constance Hardbroom, life wasn't simple like that. Romeo loved Juliet and yet their story did not end with the revelations of their feelings. That was where their story only began.

"It's only that I have so much paperwork to fill out and-" she hesitated before continuing "-I am not used to..._this_."

The irritation in Imogen's eyes softened. She came closer to the witch and looked up to her.

"Neither am I. But we can do this."

"I suggest we first agree what we mean by the term '_this'_ over a dinner tonight. I would hate to leave the key terms blurry."

"That was the worst date invitation I ever heard."

The taller woman rolled her eyes. How did she fall in love with that annoying little non-witch again? Love was indeed a riddle.

"I will ignore that and see you after breakfast in the Staff Room."

Constance saw the sparkle in Imogen's eyes as she was about to leave and she raised a finger between their bodies. "Don't even think about messing up my hair!" The blonde growled and kissed her cheek instead of the passion kiss against the doors she had in mind earlier.

Love or no love, Constance Hardbroom had her priorities.

/

Imogen Drill was running and couldn't be happier. She replayed the events of that week in her mind over and over again, feeling like an action hero in a movie: first there was the shooting, then the unexpected kiss, then the dragon and her confession of love, then worrying about Constance and it all ended with a (she couldn't decide whether to call it unexpected or expected) passionate night she spent with the witch. Had anyone told her a week ago that her life would go that direction she would laugh in their face and possibly choke on her tea or something. But life was very unpredictable, especially at Cackle's Academy and she decided to go with the flow (and after all, the flow pretty much pleased her). She turned left at the old oak and run a few laps around the lake, smiling all the way and enjoying how the morning running pumped warmed up her body.

That day she felt would be a start of something new.

/

"But we have already rewritten the Witch's Code yesterday! Miss Drill made us clean up after Connie and then we had run five laps around the lake and help Doctor Cell sort out her medicine cabinet and wash all the stairs in the castle…"

"Fenella Feverfew, as you are well aware I do not care what Miss Drill assigned you to do. I will carry out my punishments the way I always do and you will happily obey with smiling faces as you always do."

Fenella and Griselda frowned and crossed their arms, trying to look rebellious. The gesture didn't help and an hour after breakfast, they were both sitting in the potions lab, rewriting the Witch's Code yet again.

Constance decided not to supervise them and headed to the Staff Room, looking forward to seeing Imogen again. It had only been two hours but she found herself missing the younger woman, missing the way she made her feel by simply looking at her. On her way, she stopped in the Great Hall, checking on how the girls fixed the room – the shattered glass was cleaned up, the chairs were fixed and the only thing that gave away something had happened in there were cracked stones of some of the walls.

Suddenly something green on the window parapet caught her eye. She hesitated and looked around before coming closer and taking the green bottle to her hand. It was her Rational Potion that must have fallen out of her pocket when she fought the dragon. The liquid inside seemed so attractive, so drinkable. It would definitely help her to decide how to act around Imogen, how to come to terms with the fact she fell in love, how to deal with the vulnerability she let into her life with the non-witch. It would solve everything in just one single gulp. Of course, Constance remembered the pleading eyes of Mildred Hubble that begged her not to hurt her when she lost control because she needed more of the potion. And she remembered how she decided not to drink it ever again. And then how she changed that decision because it was – as she had evaluated – too rushed. After all, the potion never hurt her. It only helped. If she would swear not to lose control again and if she would be more carefully with the dosage, it would help her to clear her head and be more rational. It would make the ever-present shadow of Mistress Broomhead that she carried with herself fade away. It would make her forget the pain whenever she thought of Elizabeth. It wouldn't make her less broken but it would fix her on the outside. At least for a while.

She opened the bottle and put it to her mouth, resting the cold glass against her dry lips.

"Miss Hardbroom?" a small voice broke the silence in the Great Hall and she turned, quickly hiding the bottle behind her back.

"Mildred Hubble, didn't they ever taught you that sneaking up at people is considered rude?"

The girl shrugged and stood a few steps from her teacher. Instead of speaking she just stared at her.

"I cannot possibly image what is so interesting about me that you have to stare like that. What do you want?" Constance asked, annoyed. The girl always had the worst timing ever.

"I want to apologize for causing you so much trouble with the dragon. If I had been more careful about keeping Connie in my room, she would have never attacked the castle and…and hurt you like that. I am sorry, Miss Hardbroom, I really am. Everything I do always ends up in a disaster and…"

"Really Mildred, you always think the world only resolves around you. There is some sort of vanity in that – it wasn't _only your_ fault that the dragon escaped," the potion mistress interrupted wanted to make the girl feel better about herself but she wasn't good with encouraging people the tradition 'you can do it' way. Her way was better than being quiet though. Mildred started at her with that heart-breaking gaze, looking much like a puppy waiting to be put into an animal shelter. Miss Hardbroom didn't know how to show the young girl that she wasn't the cause of all the world's problems.

"And aren't you supposed to be writing lines for Miss Drill?" she added, unable to come up with any sort of encouragement for the young witch. That was something Imogen was good at.

"I am done with my lines, I was just about to bring them to her…" Mildred said, still visibly upset about how useless she was.

"Very well then, go to her. And I suggest you add an apology as well – I wasn't the only one who put their life in danger because of you girls not obeying the rules, was I?"

"No, Miss Hardbroom."

Mildred turned to leave but stopped before she did so. "I am glad you're feeling better, Miss. I am not sure it's appropriate of me to say this but…you seem happier."

Constance blinked in surprise. How could she _seem_ happier? And…_was she?_

"It is not appropriate, Mildred."

"Yes, Miss. I am sorry, Miss."

When the girl was gone, Constance snapped her fingers and let the green bottle forever disappear. After all, Mildred was right. She was happier.

**AN: the next chapter will be the final chapter, folks! D:**


	21. Chapter 20

_I am so, so terrible sorry for the year-something gap. Can you ever forgive me? Also, I decided this will not be the last chapter because I want to continue exploring their relationship. With at least one more chapter. Thank you for staying tuned and now...let's get to it!_

_**Quick summary: **Constance Hardbroom finally let Imogen in, after an accident with a dragon where she almost died protecting the castle. Her walls are starting to crumble, however their relationship will be anything but easy to maintain. _

* * *

**Chapter 20: Something Magic to Write Home About**

After years and years of being a headmistress, Amelia Cackle developed a sixth sense concerning her employees. She could predict when Davina would have one of her singing days, or days of being sensitive and annoyed, when Imogen would complain about not being treated with respect by Constance or when the said witch would try to make her adjust the rules of the Academy to be just a little bit stricter. Therefore, naturally, when she came back from her three days stay at Wierdsister's, she was ready to make peace between the two teachers who undoubtedly had been fighting for the past seventy two hours.

What she did not expect was a seemingly satisfied Constance waiting for her in the school yard, accompanied by equally happy looking Imogen next to her, if only a little nervous.

"Good morning, headmistress. Had a good flight?"

"Excellent, Constance! There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the girls were on their best behavior while on brooms, save for Miss Greentail trying to turn her handle into a sofa which, as you know Miss Greentail, did not end well," Amelia smiled as she put her broom in the broom shed.

"I can only imagine. The girl has a real talent for potion making, however she is utterly lost in spells. A strange, yet not an unusual occurrence," Constance remarked, her usually professional tone sounding less offending than usual.

"And she is a terrible athlete," Imogen added. "Not a strange and certainly not an unusual occurrence around here!"

Amelia saw the ends of Contance's lips twitch as she fought back the smile that was obviously there. That was, at least, curious. The third and fourth years came to greet their schoolmates with huge smiles on their faces, exciting voices ringing through the air. It made her remember the days when she was a pupil, sharing the newest gossip with her girl friends. One excited voice caught her attention:

"Tiana, Tiana, guess what! There was a dragon in the castle! It was _sooooo_ wicked!"

The headmistress stopped in her tracks and eyed her employees, seeing that they were hiding something. Imogen was biting her lower lip and Constance just stood, stoic as always, avoiding her gaze. When Constance would avoid her eyes that was a sign that there was something she would have to hear about.

"A dragon, Constance? Let me hear about that in my office, will you?" she suggested and moved with the deputy towards the old doors leading to her office. "If you excuse us, Imogen," she added sweetly. Informing the headmistress was the deputy's job, not the gym mistress'.

"Of course…I will…well, I will see to the girls," the blonde stuttered, mentally slapping herself for such a stupid come back (she could almost imagine Constance mentally slapping her, too).

Just as Imogen was leaving, Amelia caught Constance looking after her. There was something different about the witch, and whatever it was, it had something to do with the blonde gym teacher.

/

Imogen nervously paced in the backyard, supervising the outdoors in case someone got hurt during their broom flying practice. The fifth graders were helping the first years to be steady in the air, while the other girls simply enjoyed the warm weather and watched them. The gym mistress always found it amusing how the young witches wore sun glasses every time it was a little brighter outside just to show them off.

What she did not find amusing, however, was the thought that Amelia might find out about her new relationship with Constance. Would the deputy tell her? After all, relationships between colleagues were usually forbidden in order to maintain the professionalism of the teachers. No one wanted to put up with a fighting couple all year long. And then there was the fact that they were both female teachers at an all-girls school. The parents would surely mind having their innocent little girls being taught by someone like _that_, wouldn't they? There was so much hate in the world, surely they wouldn't get away with something like that without being fired.

All the alarming thoughts run through her mind while the girls were flying around. Every five seconds she was ready to pack her bags and quit. Then she would tell herself she was being ridiculous. And then all over again.

When she saw the tall brunette walk out of the castle in her direction, she literally run up to her and with pretended casualness asked: "So how did it go?"

Constance gave her a little smile but Imogen wasn't quite sure it was honest. "Did you tell her about us?"

"_Miss Drill_, the headmistress is expecting you in her office now," she said, louder than Imogen's whisper. The blonde looked around and saw Ethel nearby – close enough to hear them. She hoped that was the reason Constance acted so distant.

"Yes, of course. I will see you later, _Miss Hardbroom_" she answered, the hurt visible in her voice.

"Can't wait," Constance whispered, almost inaudibly. That, at least, made Imogen feel a little better.

/

As if she was caught doing something naughty, Imogen slowly entered the Staff Room, constantly reminding herself not to look at her feet but at the headmistress. She had no idea why she was summoned and expected to get fired for leaving the girls alone in the castle when a dragon was on the loose. Should have known better than that, she was a teacher after all. Amelia was sitting comfortably in her chair, frowning. Imogen carefully sat down in the chair opposite her and waited. She wanted to say something but she feared her voice would give away just how nervous she was.

"How did you do it, Imogen?"

Do it? Was Amelia really asking about _it_? Imogen panicked, her face flushed and palms suddenly sweating. How could Amelia ask about such a private matter? Should she say that they just kissed in the hall and that one thing led to another and…

"I honestly cannot imagine how you managed to calm the waters in only three days."

"Oh, that!" Imogen exclaimed before she could stop herself. She felt like an idiot.

The headmistress raised one eyebrow questioningly. Her employee was acting strange, to say the least. Constance was not very informative about how exactly she settled whatever was between her and the gym mistress – she simply informed Amelia that _'it was taken care of'_ and that '_they both learned their lesson_'.

"Yes, well…I don't know, headmistress," Imogen started, looking for the right words. What was she to say? That they simply skipped the friends part and became lovers? And…were they even lovers? What was it exactly that they were? How was she supposed to explain anything to Amelia when she herself had no idea?

"Constance told me you both learned your lesson, whatever that means." The witch gave Imogen a long glance and then sighed: "However it happened, I do not need to know right now. All I am happy about is that I do not have to fire either of you. I admit, I feared that threating Constance to let her go was a little too harsh but seeing how great it turned out, I am glad I did it."

The blonde let out a relieved sigh.

So Constance didn't say anything to Amelia about them. That was good, Imogen presumed. She briefly wondered whether the older witch suspected something and whether she was going to ask more questions about how and why. She really did not want to explain – she doubted she would even be able to.

"Which brings me to the second reason I called you here - how exactly did you first encounter with a dragon go, dear?"

Imogen Drill never thought that would be a question she would ever be happy to be asked.

/

"You saw HB do _what_?" Griselda Blackwood brought her eyebrows together in confusion. The information her best friend gathered the previous morning from her usual sun rise watch utterly surprised her.

"I swear it's true, Grizzy. We knew it would happen _eventually_, didn't we?" her blonde friend pointed out, putting a hand on her hip, looking quite like a cowboy that just won a duel.

"Well, yes, I guess. I just never thought Hardbroom would be the cuddly, after-glow type. One would think she would be gone before the sunrise planning her world domination or whatever it is she does in her spare time."

"Gone where? It was _her_ bedroom."

"Yes but you know, Hardbroom just doesn't seem like the type to bask in the morning after glow. She just doesn't," Griselda said, her mind analyzing the news that Hardbroom spent the night in her chamber with Miss Drill.

Fenella bit her lip, thinking as well. "I don't know. Maybe they weren't shagging, though."

"Oh trust me, they were. I know a sex glow when I see it, even on that rigid Hardbroom" her friend opposed. "Besides, what else would they be doing? Have you ever seen them having a normal conversation for more than a few seconds before it erupted into a fight? That had been some obvious tension there."

"We also fight all the time and sleep in each other's chamber. Doesn't mean we are sleeping together," the blonde stated before realizing how awkward it came out.

The eye contact she had with her best friend at that moment was worth a thousand words. Most of them would be a synonym to 'embarrassing'. After a few seconds, she decided to change the topic to something that held more importance than teenage crushes.

"So, I say we blackmail Miss Drill with this information to make her talk to Hardbroom about cancelling our punishment, what do you think?"

A mischievous grin was her answer.

/

_I am old,_ Constance thought during one particularly slow-paced potion lesson where the girls actually worked in silence, throwing in the ingredients without any complaints. The witch liked the upcoming exam time – it made the girls work harder and value every opportunity they had to practice potions. Those were some quality lessons.

What made her aware of her age, however, were not the upcoming 30th semester exams she would have to sit through, no. It was the all-day present neck pain she felt, the soreness of her muscles, especially in her calves and thighs and the way she could still feel nails digging into her skin on her back. It wasn't a bad pain per say – she was familiar with that kind from her years spent under Broomhead's supervision – this was more of that kind of pain that made her feel alive, made her feel satisfied with herself.

_Damn Drill_, she silently cursed, her lips almost curving into a smile when remembering _how_ the soreness was caused.

She was sure the younger woman did not feel her body's response to the unusual amount of exercise she got the previous night. After all, she was a PE teacher (that is the only perk of being a gym mistress, Constance realized). It made her feel old, even though she was only in her early forties.

The thoughts about her age led her to thoughts about the age difference between her and Imogen (12 years, was it?), which led her to musing about their…whatever it was. Relationship? Well, it was certainly a relationship of _some_ sort, she just needed to properly categorize it. Hopefully the talk they would have over a dinner that night would make everything clearer.

A distance voice pulled her out of her musings. "Miss Hardbroom? Miss Hardbroom!"

A girl was standing in front of her desk with a potion kettle in her hands. "I would want to know what I did wrong here," young Miss Waxfire said, desperately looking for advice.

"Even before I look into it I am certain that it can be said that you did not pay attention in class the day we brewed this potion," the deputy headmistress started, forgetting about her personal issues for a while.

/

"Miss Drill?" Mildred poked her head in the Staff Room, looking for her gym mistress. She found her sitting in the corner, reading some sports magazine, smiling. It was curious to see someone smile while reading, Mildred thought, but she did not give it much attention.

"I brought you the lines," the girl said, walking over to the teacher who had noticed her only when she spoke again: "I am sorry, Miss."

Imogen eyed the young witch from her brown braids to her untied laces and smiled kindly, taking the papers from her hands. Mildred refused to meet her eye, being sincerely sorry about the whole dragon accident.

"Don't worry, Mildred. These things happen on their own when they need to and there is nothing we can do to stop them," Imogen reassured her, thinking how things could have been different if not for the dragon accident. Maybe it was really supposed to happen just the way it did.

The students eyes filled with tears: "But I almost killed Miss Hardbroom! And you….and I put everyone else in danger just because I somehow forgot to close the window or because I made Ethel mad and she let the dragon out but…that doesn't matter. Either way - I am fully responsible and I am sorry."

"Come here," Imogen patted the seat next to her. The girl needed some serious encouragement to believe in herself and not to take responsibility for everything. It was a noble thing to do – yet foolish and dangerous for her future. Sometimes we have to learn when we are accused falsely and stand up for ourselves. Mildred sat down, desperate eyes avoiding Miss Drill's kind gaze.

"Look at me, Mildred." The girl met her gaze. "At this school – a Witch Academy – these things will always happen. And it always has to come down to some pupil who is responsible. Even before you came here we had these things happening – teachers turning into stone, flying fish, I even recall a girl who accidentally made the Little Red Riding Hood story come to life and we had a wolf running around. He had a particular liking of Miss Hardbroom, as I remember he wanted to eat her."

Mildred smiled at the image of a wolf chasing the deputy, the big teeth ready to sink into the leather dress.

"Cackles is a place where magic happens – and sometimes not the way we want it. You cannot feel guilty about it all the time. It is over, everything's fine and that's it. Okay?"

Imogen put a hand on the young witch's shoulder in order to reassure her that everything is alright. Mildred seemed to be less depressed about the whole situation and nodded slowly, a smile forming on her lips.

"Besides, if not for all the mischief you and your friends keep getting into, this academy would be so boring," Miss Drill added.

A genuine laughter filled the room, coming from the young girl. All seemed suddenly a lot better, now that she spoke to the gym mistress.

"Now, now. Let's not get too comfortable here, I believe you have a class starting in a few minutes, am I right?"

Mildred nodded and left the staffroom with a quiet 'thank you', hurrying to her Potion Class.

/

_Too short. Too colorful. Too sporty. Too girly. Too boring._

Dark green dress landed on the pile of clothes on the bed, followed by an aqua blue summer dress, a tennis skirt, pink flowery dress and beige suit. A frustrated sigh filled the room, coming from the woman standing in front of a mirror in her underwear, looking at herself completely unsatisfied.

"It's official. I have nothing to wear," Imogen said to no one in particular and kicked the pile of clothes on her floor that she had to take out from her wardrobe before getting to her dresses. She hadn't worn those for years and was surprised some of them still fit her.

All the dresses she put on seemed too out of character for her. She rarely wore dresses but it seemed to her that a date was somehow a dress occasion and she wanted to look pretty for Constance. That, however, was showing hard to achieve. Out of all the clothes she had there was nothing she could wear to look interesting, to look different than usual.

Imogen eyes fell onto the black 'power-suit' in her closet, the one she wore to important meetings to look fierce. _Too aggressive_, she thought.

After considering going naked (after all, Constance seemed to like that) she gave up and put on the dark green dress that she deemed too short before. The green clashed with her skin and her hair and she frowned at herself in the mirror, wishing the dress magically turned red.

Magically, Imogen suddenly realized, was the keyword.

/

The trouble with dragons, Miss Hardbroom would tell you, is the paperwork that comes in the picture when dealing with them. There was a '_magical accident_' report she had to fill out for the Witches' Council concerning how did the dragon get to the castle, the '_Breed Description_' for DMA (Dangerous Magical Animals) department to ensure them that the dragon in question was not a rare breed and therefore her magic did not endanger his spieces and a few more that not even Constance knew needed to be filled.

The time seemed to stop for Constance as she dived into all the paperwork. Unfortunately, it did not stop for everyone else and by the time the deputy headmistress was all done with the documents, she was also fifteen minutes late for her dinner with Imogen.

"Dammit," she growled as she hurried down the stairs, her black dress flowing behind her, disappearing in the darkness of the castle.


End file.
